To Heal Your Scars
by Starlit Insanity
Summary: Sky Mortimer has felt alone her entire life and long ago lost hope of finding someone who could understand her. But when she's kidnapped by the Joker, she just may have found the type of person she'd given up on so many years before. JokerxOC
1. Hello Beautiful

**Note: This is my first fanfiction I've ever written, and it's about a girl named Sky Mortimer who has always felt alone. She has no family or friends, and lives in a one-room apartment by herself. And then, she is kidnapped by the Joker and her life is changed forever. **

**Enjoy! ^_^**

**Disclaimer: I own the character Sky, not the Joker. **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter One. Hello Beautiful._

Ah, Christmas Eve. How… enchanting. The snow falling like iced lace from the pitch-dark sky, the Christmas lights twinkling like millions of tiny stars, and the smiles of everyone as they walked on the snow-covered sidewalks of uptown Gotham. From inside one of the biggest, most expensive stores in the entire city, I watched all of this as people frantically bustled about around me buying last-minute gifts for the loved ones that they had forgotten. Of course I was stared at by these panicking shoppers – I was sitting on one of the display boxes, staring at those around me, with no particular purpose of being there. And then there was the matter of well, _me_. I had on falling apart black combat boots – three inches high – holey jeans with various designs haphazardly drawn all over them, and my favourite black zip-up sweater – also holey. My makeup was rather theatrical, with gold eye shadow and black eyeliner flaring our from my dark blue eyes like wings, and I had on deep purple lipstick to match the colour of my long, wavy (and somewhat messy) hair. To say the least, I didn't exactly fit in with the rest of the perfect-looking people in the store. So why, you may ask, was I in there? Was I waiting for someone who had gone off to buy me a beautiful present for Christmas? Was I waiting for my mother, who told me to stay there while she took a few minutes (but would really take an hour) to quickly look around? Was I really some rich kid, the daughter of a millionaire, who liked to act and dress like she didn't have enough money to buy a decent sweater and maybe a brush for her hair? No, definitely not, and I seriously wish. I had no one to wait for, not even a mother (mine had taken off when I was twelve years old, thank-you very much. Topic closed). And I had barely enough money to pay for two (on occasion, three) meals a day and the rent on my dingy, cramped apartment in the "slums" of town. So why was I in this store? The answer: I like to watch people. Creepy maybe, but a pastime nonetheless. I like to study everyone, try to figure out if the saying "never judge a book by its cover" is really true. I watch mothers and fathers interact with their children, with each other. How boyfriends act with their girlfriends and vice versa, compared with how they act around their friends. And of course, how people act toward those that they don't know. Are they polite? Are they dismissive, do they ignore them completely? Oh, and I don't only study the upper class. No, I study the people who live in my area too – for example, my neighbours. The husband and wife who throw dishes and other breakable objects at each other every night, their angry screams keeping me awake until the early hours of the morning. Or the single mother who lives in the building across the street from me, her window on the same level as mine. We've talked a few times, the first of which I told her, "I wish I'd had a mother like you when I was little," and her eyes teared up and she said that although she couldn't be my mother, she'd be my friend and look after me. So, she is now my best friend because… she's my only friend.

How depressing. My only friend. My only contact in this ridiculous world other than my hateful landlord and my moronic boss at Starbucks. Yes, that is my job. It's also where I met my latest in a long line of ex-boyfriends. He was smart, funny, a talented singer, and above all, he treated me better than any other guy had. Therefore, I bought him the most expensive Christmas present that I could afford: an iPod. It was one of the old ones, so I got it pretty cheap, and he was about as money-less as I was, so he didn't have one yet. And then, a weak before Christmas, he breaks up with me. He didn't even bother to give the whole "I think we should just be friends" speech. No, he phoned me. Told me that there was no future for him with me. ("Sorry, Sky baby, we had fun but I need to move on to someone else. Someone… with a more promising future that a guy like me can connect to.) Nice, eh? And just before Christmas, the cheap bastard. I was going to burn the iPod that I had bought for him, but decided against it and brought it back to the store to get my money back. Oh and yes, that's my name: Sky. Not a short form for Schuyler or any other name, just Sky because my mother was going through a "dream-like" stage of her life and liked "dreamy" names – apparently my name was classified as one. I like it though. It matches my eyes, she (my mother) told me once when I was really little, and still loved me. A shining, midnight blue, that's how she described the colour. Like sapphires in a field of freshly fallen snow (which was my pale face).

Reminiscing like that deserves a heavy, mournful sigh, I think. Like in the movies when people are remembering old times and just _sigh_ in a sad and heart-broken way, and it reaches your heart and opens a wound that you didn't know existed, and maybe shouldn't even exist but it's there anyway because deep down you feel so alone. A.L.O.N.E. That… would be me in a nutshell. I sometimes doubt that anyone in the world feels as alone as I do sometimes, even though I know that there is. And that makes me feel even sadder, the knowledge that a bunch of poor people in the world feel as lonely as I do. I sometimes thought that I was so pitiful and weak, thinking about myself like that all the time, and then I just thought angrily to myself, _you deserve no pity at all, not even from yourself_. You see, it's not like I ever did anything to change myself. I _liked_ to be alone, it's who I was – I have terrible trust issues, you see. But every now and then, it just got to me, not being able to rely on anyone except for myself.

So as I sat there, thinking depressing thoughts, there was a commotion at the front of the store at the large, clear glass doors. It made me jump and I fell behind the display boxes that I had perched on for my people watching. There was yelling, banging, crashing, and then a terrible silence except for John Lennon's "So This Is Christmas" being played over the speakers, which was ceased after a couple of seconds. I rubbed my knee as it throbbed painfully at the place where I fell on it and I realized that all was still silent as people stared at the cause of the commotion with absolute terror. What had happened? Did someone drive through the glass doors or something? For a couple of seconds I pondered the various situations that could have happened and then the deadly silence was broken.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." Oh no. I looked up over the stacks of boxes that concealed me, and saw _him_. The Joker, standing not 10 feet away from me. His face paint was applied like he was in a terrible rush when he put it on, his green-tinged hair was pushed back from his forehead, and his yellow teeth gleamed as he grinned at the panicked faces of the customers and workers in the rest of the store. He was tall, I noticed, and leaned over to meet the face of a petrified old woman. "Oh dear, are you afraid?" he spoke in an excited whisper that somehow everyone managed to hear very clearly. One of his clown faced followers bellowed out a laugh, which made everyone jump, and he was promptly shot in the chest by his unamused boss. _Huh_, I thought,_ it seems that The Joker isn't happy unless he's the only one who's having fun_. I stared at the body and I felt my stomach twist sickeningly. I had never been one to have a weak stomach, but as I saw the dark crimson blood pooling around the dead man, I thought I was going to scream. I'd never seen anyone die before. As it happens, some people did scream. A few fainted. The Joker looked gleeful at this, and spoke again, this time addressing everyone. "I am only here for some things that I need. Like… this," he grabbed a deep purple dress shirt, stepping closer to my hiding place. "And… this," A purple necktie. Another step closer. "And maybe… these," a couple pairs of purple socks. He was now standing above me, and I crouched lower, hoping, praying that I would not be seen. No such luck. "Oh! Why, hello there Sweetheart," I looked up to meet his charcoal-smeared eyes, and I looked down and shrank away from him. "Oh no no no, that won't do!" He clicked his tongue. "Stand up!" I didn't have to, he grabbed me by the shoulders and easily lifted me up off the ground – I was only 95 pounds. My feet were still dangling in the air when he said, "Well aren't you beautiful."

"P-please put me d-down," I stammered. He did and then slapped me across the face, which knocked me down of the floor again.

"I like you," he grinned. And then I thought, what did I have to be afraid of? What could he take me away from? No loving parents, no sweet pets that needed my care, no friends that enjoyed my company (except Maria, sort-of, the woman who lived across my street and had her son to look after). All I had was my apartment. No, I was alone. Once again, that word. _Alone, I'm so alone_. So what did my life matter to anyone, even me? Why didn't I just give up and let the Joker kill me right then and there with his shining switchblade? It may not be painless, but it would probably be quick. I smiled up at him, blood running down my chin from my broken bottom lip.

"Do you now?" I asked, still smiling. He didn't like this very much, as I had found out before. I licked the blood trailing from my mouth and laughed. He raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised at my actions. People were staring at me with a mixture of confusion and fear, probably thinking _Oh God, she isn't insane like him, is she?_ No, I'm not, but I figured that he'd probably kill me more quickly the more he disliked me. However, he didn't react the way I wanted him to.

"Yes, Gorgeous, I do! Now, you are coming with me. Stand up," he spoke childishly, then giggled and once again lifted me up, only this time throwing my over his shoulder. "My, you are small, aren't you?"

"Put me down!" I ignored his rhetorical question and yelled like an idiot. Like he would listen to me.

"I don't think so, Girlie." We reached the doors to the store when he asked, "Do you have a coat? It is rather cold out there, wouldn't want you getting _sick_ now, would we?"

"No," I answered. He turned around and walked into an aisle of very expensive-looking coats.

"Excuse me," he said smiling evilly to a man around my age, 21, standing in front of a rack of coats. The Joker roughly pushed him out of the way and onto the ground, where the terrified man scrambled away on all fours, making the Joker giggle like a little kid. He grabbled a small purple coat off the hanger, put me back on the ground, and shoved my arms through the sleeves and did up the zipper – I felt like a doll. He slung me over his shoulder and waked toward the glass doors at the front of the store again. As he left, he fired a bunch of shots into the air just to scare the hell out of everyone inside and outside, who, screaming, ran for cover. "Isn't it the night just… beautiful? Like you, Sweetheart," he said to me. "Just… like… you." He began humming a song and skipping along to it, which was rather painful for me. I shifted on his shoulder uncomfortably. "Oh I'm sorry, am I hurting you?" he asked laughing, not bothering to stop jolting me around. I refused to give in.

"No, not at all," I replied, not easily as I was upside down and being bounced around every step. He laughed and said something like, of course, of course. We finally reached his van, and he opened the passenger side door and tossed me in.

"Wouldn't want you to have to stay in the back with my team," he grinned. I'd forgotten about them; I turned around to see five of them pile into the back and then sit down and stare at me. Even through those masks I could feel them looking me up and down like an object. Ugh. I turned around and faced the front and the Joker jumped in his side and started the van, which sounded, looked, and smelled too old to drive. To drive? Sorry, I meant to _race_. 90 miles an hour on city streets was a death wish in my mind, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. He ran stop signs, red lights, passed on the right, and I believe that he didn't slow down once. "This is _fun_, isn't it, Beautiful?" he asked me, laughing hysterically. All I could do was shut my eyes and cling to the sides of the seat, which were… sticky. Oh, gross.

After about 15 minutes of pure terror, we reached whatever our destination was. Ah, this was the place that he lived, an abandoned warehouse. It was even worse than my apartment. He opened the rusting doors, and said "After you, Princess," and smiled. I cautiously took a few steps into the warehouse and he came in after me, shutting the doors behind him. After a second he turned the light on and leaned down and his lips moved against my ear. "Home. Sweet. Home."

I realized that until that moment, I had no idea what pure terror really was.


	2. The Purest Terror

**Note: Thank-you so, so much to those of you who liked the first chapter. The fact that some people actually want me to write more means so much to me, I honestly didn't know that anyone would enjoy my writing. And to the people who wrote comments, I thank you especially. **

**To psychedellicplatypus: Thanks very much for the critique, I really appreciate it. I always have the problem with verb tenses when I write, but I hope that this chapter is better. The story is supposed to be written in past tense, but Sky's thoughts and the speech of the characters are supposed to be in present tense. But thanks so much, I'll try to fix the rest of it in later chapters. **

**So, I do really hope that you all like this chapter as well, I wrote a lot of it at around one or two in the morning, though. And the beginning is sort of gory, so I hope that sort of thing doesn't bother you. If you are bothered, then I'm very sorry. **

**Also, if there are any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, feel free to let me know. I'll correct them. **

**Enjoy!**

**Oh, and I don't own the Joker, sadly. However, I do own Sky Mortimer. **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Two. The Purest Terror._

When I had been in the store, crouching behind the display boxes that I had been sitting upon only moments before, I had witnessed the murder of a man – a bullet through his beating heart. I had thought that what I had felt at that moment was pure terror. Then, a few minutes later, the Joker discovered me; I had looked into his eyes, and I had thought _that_ was pure terror. Afterwards he threw me into the white, falling apart van and drove at breakneck speed through the streets of Gotham – the fear of getting into some gruesome car accident and the image of myself being smeared along the pavement being etched into my mind – was that pure terror that I had felt? No. Well, maybe at the time, but it was nothing compared to what I felt at that moment that the lights had been turned on in the abandoned warehouse. As the Joker stood behind me, his head bent to be on level with mine, his fingers trailing up and down my spine creating chills that made my entire body shake with cold, I stared, speechless, at the scene in front of me. It was a large room, and the front was mostly bare but for dust and dirt covering the bleak concrete. But the back, illuminated now by the fluorescent lights that shone down from the ceiling, was like nothing that I had ever seen before. The floor was smeared with the red-brown colour of dried blood. The walls were covered. The air _reeked_. And why? I saw, though it was far away, the body of a man. I shook, and finally managed to make a sound: it was a strangled cry that emerged from the back of my parched throat. I was going to cry, I was going to be sick… I was going to die of fright and sadness, right there. Taking a few steps forward, I slowly and shakily made my way over to the dead man. When I was ten feet away, I couldn't make myself move any closer to him. I didn't know him, but I couldn't stop _imagining_ that I knew him. My mother had always told me that I had an overactive imagination. I imagined that he had a wife that he loved. Children that he adored and played with when he returned home from work. Friends in whom he confided. I imagined him alive, breathing, happy, laughing. But as I stared at his lifeless, gray face, I felt tears streaming down my own ashen face. He was _dead_. And I could see his face, not like that man in the store. I could see… _smell_ his blood. What was this? I couldn't see him anymore. I realized that my knees had given out from beneath me, and I was now lying with my cheek pressed against the floor. I was lying… on a bloodstain. My head hurt from the fall. Wait, was it my blood that I was lying on? Or was it the man's? Or was it from some other poor victim of the sadistic Joker's?

"Who…?" I muttered. "Who… was he?" I thought that my words were incoherent, but he heard me, and chuckled.

"My, aren't you _theatrical_? He was, um, someone who bothered me. I didn't like him, not like I like _you_." Another giggle. The sick bastard. "Come on, stand up now. You have a serious liking for the floor, don't you?" The Joker skipped over to me and leaned over above my collapsed body. I couldn't stand up. I could barely even move my mouth, let alone my legs, which felt like they were disconnected from my body. The last thing I remembered was being lifted from the dank, stinking floor into the Joker's arms. He chuckled and didn't stop until my mind went blank and everything was dark.

I woke up to darkness; I thought that I was maybe still unconscious and I was dreaming, but no. I could never have dreamt the cold that I felt, the discomfort of whatever I was lying on, the deadly silence that met my ears, or the feel of the blood that had dried in and then matted my hair. So it was my blood that I was lying in on the concrete floor, maybe. And then I sat bolt upright (not a good idea, ow) as I remembered the reason for the cut on my head. I had fallen because of something… Oh, _God_. That horrible scene flashed through my mind once again and I felt extremely nauseous. I gagged as bile rose in my throat and spilled out in front of me; it was so painful because I hadn't had anything to drink in so long. After I was sick and wiped my mouth I wondered vaguely how long I had been unconscious. Minutes… hours… days? Had I missed Christmas? Not exactly that it would've mattered to me, but it was still quite a major event to miss. Another question: where was I? I assumed that I was still in the warehouse, maybe in an old office that had been re-designated as a room for me, but I was left by myself. No one was guarding me, as far as I knew, and I decided that I would try to stand up. It wasn't easy, my legs felt like lead I was so weak, and I was still so dizzy from my head wound and the amount of blood that I had probably lost. I grabbed onto something near me – a desk, I realized – and made sure I was balanced. Finally, I let go, and stumbled over to the door leading to goodness knows where – hopefully not that wretched entranceway again – and grasped the metal doorknob and turned… only it didn't turn. I was so stupid, did I really believe that the Joker would leave me in an unguarded, unlocked room for me to escape from? I sighed and then felt around the walls for a light switch and I found one. I was about to turn it on when I caught myself. What if he had locked me in a room similar to the last one in my recent memory? There might have been blood in there, or worse, a body. I couldn't face that again, so I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and thought. I thought about what would affect me more – seeing another body, or stagger clumsily around the room and end up tripping over and possibly falling on a body. I chose the first and quickly flicked on the light. I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds and then forced my eyes open to look at my surroundings. There was… nothing. Except for a desk, an old filing cabinet, and a horrible mattress with springs actually coming out of it all over the place (that must have been what I was lying on before). There was a window on the wall opposite me, but it had opaque glass as well as iron bars covering it – so not only could I not _get_ out, I couldn't even _see_ out. How disappointing. The window on the door adjacent to me was also covered with opaque glass, so if I was lucky I might have been able to see the shadowed outline of someone if they approached my room. As it happens, someone did come. I could hear their soft footsteps quickly approach my door and stop outside of it, and then the person's fumbling with the lock and key. The locked finally clicked, the doorknob turned, and the door swung open to reveal a surprised and confused-looking Joker as he stared at the empty mattress in front of him – where he expected me to be. He turned around and his onyx eyes met my wide, frightened ones.

"You're awake!" He exclaimed gleefully. I said nothing to him. "I thought you'd never wake up, you were out cold for two days, you know. Missed Christmas, isn't that sad? I was hoping that we could share a nice supper, but alas…" he smiled at me once again, his teeth disgustingly shining a rotten yellow. I still said nothing, even when he strode over to me and grabbed my wrist. "We'll make up for it tonight then. I'm assuming that you are hungry?" He raised his eyebrows, and I succeeded in moving my head up and down in a nodding motion. "Good." He laughed and pulled me out of the room and into one at the end of the hall. We were in the second level of the building (there were three) and you could look over the railing at the floor below, but I didn't just in case the body hadn't been removed yet. I was half pulled, half dragged into a room at the end of the hall and was greeted by the delicious smell of _food_. My stomach growled. It wasn't nice food by any means – fast food actually – fries, wilted-looking salads, hamburgers, and sodium filled soup. How nutritious, but I decided that it was definitely better than nothing. Joker let me go and I dove onto the fries, shoving three in my mouth at a time, and took a swig of brown pop – that was funny, the bottle was surprisingly light as if there wasn't much left in it. "_That_," his voice made me jump. "was mine. But I suppose you can have it if you really want. Yours is actually over there." He pointed to the far end of the table. I muttered a small "sorry" and grabbed that drink instead. Thankfully, there was a lot left in it and I inhaled that like I had the fries. I ate the salad and some of the soup and realized that if I ate any more I'd probably be sick again. I slowly put down the Styrofoam bowl and looked up at his amused face. I noticed that he hadn't taken a single bite of food, did he simply feed off of my fear? I laughed at the ridiculous thought. He was simply an evil human, not a mythological monster. "You laugh at the oddest times," he remarked, and I nodded after thinking about it for a couple of seconds. Not that he would know it, but I was one of those people who would think of something funny and burst out laughing, regardless of where I was or who was around me. He shrugged and then said rather rudely, "You need a shower." How offensive! And I blurted out before thinking,

"As if you should talk!" I gasped and bit my lip, preparing for him to walk over me and hit me. But he only laughed, uncontrollably at that, He was hypocritical, that much I knew. He thought _I_ laughed at the oddest times? He finally stopped and smiled at me.

"You're quite the mouthpiece, Beautiful. And you think my hair's greasy do you? You're wrong. I put hair wax into it to make it look that way. Sort of completes my look, you know?" He giggled. "I don't think that it would be very suited to me if I walked around looking like, well, _this_," he gestured at his face and outfit, "and had soft and pretty hair." He giggled. Again. I supposed that it made sense, what he was saying, but his hair still looked gross so I said nothing, a mute once again. "Still, you need a shower. Right. This. Way," pointing toward the door that lead back into the hallway, he smiled mischievously. I carefully walked out, never once taking my eyes off of him, and waited for him outside the door. He was quickly in front of me and I had to jog to catch up – his legs had to be nearly twice the length of mine. He stopped suddenly in front of a door on our right and I crashed into him, nearly knocking myself over. He didn't even budge. "Here we are," he said still with the hint of a smile in his voice. He unlocked the door and opened it wide to reveal a mess of a room. It was cluttered, with things like knives, guns, grenades, and other weapon-like things that I really didn't know existed. There was a large, unmade bed in the far corner of the room covered with a purple comforter on it, and the walls were painted black. The floor was made of black linoleum. Makeup and a jar of green hair dye sat on the windowsill alongside a hand mirror.

"This is your room," I squeaked. I thought he was bringing me to a bathroom so I could shower, not his bedroom.

"How could you tell?" he asked playfully and walked into his messy room. I followed, careful not to step on anything that could injure me. "Bathroom is in there." He pointed to a small room connected to his.

"Isn't there any other bathroom here?" I asked. I did not exactly feel comfortable showering while he was in the room next door with the set of keys in his own pocket. All I could think of was the scene in _Psycho_ where the woman was stabbed to death in the shower with _ee ee ee ee _theme playing over and over again in my head.

"Yes, but not one with a shower," he replied smiling at me. He was probably lying.

"Well where does your _team_," I mimicked him, "shower? Or don't they?" It definitely wouldn't surprise me.

"They do have lives other than me, you know," he said. _Not very long ones_, I thought, thinking of the man who was so carelessly shot in the store. "They have places that they stay and most likely shower in." I stood there for about a minute and he asked me if I was going to move or if he had to put me in the shower himself, and I scurried into the bathroom and locked the door. I looked around the dirty little room and found a small table to put against the door. It wouldn't be a great obstacle for him to have to move out of the way, but it would make a lot of noise to alert me and probably give me enough time to throw my clothes back on before he saw me. I put my clothes in a small pile in the corner of the room and stepped into the small shower, which was surprisingly clean. I turned on the water and yelped at the freezing temperature of it. It eventually became warmer and I washed the dirt and grime from my body and hair and finally shut the water off. It was only then that I realized that I had no clothes to wear. And I stepped out of the shower and realized that not only did I not have any clean clothes, there were also no towels. That _pervert_. Did he really think that he could get away with that? I'd put my dirty clothes back on if I had to. But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Um," I called out the door. "You wouldn't happen to have any towels? Or clothes that I could wear?" There was silence for a moment and then:

"Oh _dear_. Did I not leave you any? I went to your apartment and got you some of your clothes – "

"What?"

" – but I must have left them, oh yes here they are. I left them out here. Would you like to come and get them?" Giggle. That jerk.

"I. Need. A. Towel," I growled.

"Well those are all in the wash right now, I'm afraid." I finally came up with an idea, though I was sure that it wouldn't work.

"I'll open the door a crack and you can hand me my clothes, alright?" I suggested to the makeup-ed man standing on the other side of the door.

"Alrighty then, Sweetheart," I could almost hear the smile in his strange voice. When he knocked and said that it was okay to open the door, I was worried that he was going to barge in on me, but he handed my clothes to my outstretched hand that I held out. I quickly yanked them away from him and slammed the door in his face, leaving him chuckling, and I swore I heard him call me a prude.

"Wonderful," I muttered as I got dressed. It wasn't until I had all of my clothes on and was about to walk out of the tiny bathroom that I realized that all of my clothes that he had chosen for me were purple and black: Purple shirt and socks, black pants and sweater. He brought me a green belt. Wow. I unlocked the door and walked out, and right into him.

"Watch where you're going, Sweetie!" He exclaimed as he pretended to stumble.

"Then don't stand where I'm going to walk! And I do have a name, you know," I retorted. He looked furious for a second, and apparently changed his mind and smiled, bending down to my face and whispering,

"You might want to watch your mouth around me. You may find that I can be a little… unpredictable," he then straightened up suddenly, completely towering over me. "I like your – um – _feistiness_, though. _Very_ endearing. To me, anyway," he winked, and I felt a little sick. But I noticed that some of his face paint chipped off when he smiled, and you could see the skin underneath. Could it be there is actually a man under that sick and twisted layer of being that he had created?

As we were walking back to my room he said, "I do like your clothes by the way. But I didn't like the rest of your wardrobe much, so I burned it. Got you some new clothes, though. Hope ya like 'em."

"You… burned… my clothes?" I managed to sputter.

"_Actually,"_ he said purposefully, "I set fire to your room. It was a very pretty sight, but the firemen came and ruined all my fun." _What if someone died? _I thought that I was going to collapse like a couple days before, but I somehow managed to keep walking, keeping up with him, no less. "Here you go, your room as you did _not_ leave it." I didn't understand what he meant until he opened the door and turned on the light. Instead of the broken mattress I'd slept on for two days, I had a bed! It was purple (sigh). And I had a set of drawers. And a vanity.

"How… _nice_ of you," I said, actually surprised. There was no doubt that wherever he had gotten these items from, they were stolen, but I managed to convince myself that it was the thought that counted. I walked over to my drawer, opened it and – surprise, surprise – almost all of the clothes in it were purple (but some were black, some were green). "These weren't someone else's before, were they?" I asked a little cautiously.

"Oh no no no. I got them from a store, just for you. I hope they all fit… I got all small sizes," he said, looking me up and down, but not like lech-like, like his team of clown-masked morons.

"Thank-you," I replied, giving him the smallest of smiles. He returned my gratitude with raised eyebrows.

"Well, I should be going now. Get some sleep, you'll need it for tomorrow," he said with a devious glint in his eye, but I was confused and burst out:

"But I woke up only two hours ago! And before that I had slept for two days! And wait… what's happening tomorrow?" I had suddenly figured out his last sentence.

"That would be for me to know dear, and for you to find out. It's two am, by the way. I'll be waking you up in five hours. Good night," he began to leave.

"Wait!" I yelled.

"What? Too afraid to sleep alone?" Another devious glint in his onyx eyes. I glared into them and growled again (at this rate, he'd probably think I'm part animal):

"No. Good night."

"_Sleep tight_."


	3. Memories

**Note: Thanks again for all the comments everyone. I'm so glad that you like it. **

**In this chapter I decided that Sky would actually be twelve when her mother left, instead of eight, which is the age that I originally wrote her to be. I've changed it in the first chapter now too, so if you read it after I corrected it, then ignore this part of the message, but not the next part. **

**This chapter barely involves the Joker (I'm terribly sorry, he'll be in the next chapter. Haha I'm starting to miss him). It's all about Sky's life and how she got to be the way she is, all walled up in her own world. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or Batman/Bruce Wayne (DC Comics does) but Sky Mortimer © Starlit Insanity (me). **

**Enjoy! **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Three. Memories. _

After he had left and shut the door, I walked over to my vanity, looked in the mirror, and nearly screamed. I was an absolute fright with no makeup on. My skin looked even paler than usual, my eyes were wide and, well, sort-of odd looking I thought, and my hair was a rat's nest. You see, after the shower I had didn't have a brush or a hair dryer, so I couldn't style or detangle it. How very troublesome. I opened the drawer and was pleased to see that the Joker had picked up a few of my things before he blew up my apartment. My brush, for one, was present and accounted for – as was all of my makeup. I decided not to put any on because it would be five hours before anyone saw me again, but I did run my brush through my hair until it was dry and smooth again. I realized that I really didn't look that bad when my hair didn't look like a haystack, and I smiled at my reflection. I had never been able to call myself beautiful, but many people had. Not friends, of course, but just random people. Like ones who worked in stores, and once an old woman asked me to help her carry something and said "Well you are a beautiful girl, dear, aren't you?" I stammered and blushed a reply, and she just smiled and teetered away. I had makeup on that day, though. I tore myself away from my mirror (no wonder they call it a _vanity_) and faced the rest of my room. It was very neat looking. I got up and then I fished through my drawers and found some pajamas to put on and then sat on my bed. It was definitely very comfortable. I wondered, right at that moment, how the Joker had managed to get all of this into the room in the couple hours that I had been out of it – he was with me the entire time. But I promptly forgot about it as I glanced over at my night table and saw a book on it. I snatched it up and saw that he had saved Jane Eyre from my vast collection of novels in my apartment. And although I loved the one book he had saved, my heart sank as I thought of all my other books, my most prized possessions, going up in flames. I sighed as I felt tears forming in my eyes and I blinked them away as I opened my book and began reading.

-----

Three hours later and about two hundred pages in, I felt my eyelids start to close so I turned over and shut the light off. And even though I had only been awake for 5 hours, I was exhausted and darkness closed in and I fell asleep.

-----

_In my dream, the street was crowded with hundreds of people out for the day and I had no idea where I was going. I tugged on my mother's hand and looked up into her beautiful face. _

_"Where are we going, mummy?" I asked in my six-year-old voice. _

_"We're going to visit Daddy at work, sweetheart," she replied, staring straight ahead. Even at that age, I knew that she no longer loved my father, but stayed with him anyway for reasons unknown to me. My eleven-year-old brother, Danny, walked on my other side, and he terrified me when he looked down at me and sneered. _

_"You've got chocolate on your face, brat," he spoke disgustedly. As I wiped the remainder of my earlier snack from the area around my mouth, I tried to remember a time that my brother had ever been kind to me, told me he wanted to play with me instead of hit me when my mother wasn't looking and my father was passed out on the couch. But I knew that he, like my father, had never loved me, and maybe even hated me. I huddled closer to my mother and tripped over her feet; I would have fallen had she not kept hold of my hand and pulled me up. _

_"Watch your step, Sky," she didn't even look at me, but when I looked at her I realized that I saw a tear run down the left side of her face. _

_"I-I'm sorry, Mummy! I hurt you," I said, starting to cry myself, thinking that I had hurt her when I tripped over her a few seconds earlier. But she blinked away the water threatening to pour down her face and wiped the tear that had already escaped. She shook her head._

_"No, honey, you're not the one who hurt me, who I know will hurt me." This confused me further, but I was happy that this one bad thing wasn't my fault. Like my father and brother said everything else was. I kept walking down the street with the sun beating down on my small head, probably burning it, smiling. Every now and then I cast a furtive glance at my brother, but every time I did, he was glaring off in some direction other than mine. Other than my mother crying, it seemed to be turning out to be a good day. _

_We finally reached my father's office building, and we stopped outside of the huge glass doors. I stared up at the top of them, and then further to try and see the top of the building. I couldn't see it because the sun was hurting my eyes and I wondered how it was possible that the buildings that tall didn't tip over when the wind blew. I let go of my mother's hand and walked backwards to the edge of the sidewalk, and finally saw the top of the gigantic building – the letters across it read "W A Y N E" but I didn't know what that spelled because I couldn't read very well yet. I had to stop trying to figure it out because my mother called me back to her and then we walked through the great glass doors. _

_The inside of the building was even more elegant than the outside, and I stared around in awe until my mother pulled me toward the elevator. We went up to floor 18 and stepped out, turned right, and I watched my mother bang on the door at the end of the long hallway. A young woman answered the door, smiling at first, and then faltering when she was met with my mother's furious stare. _

_"Who the hell are you?" my mother demanded. _

_"I-I should go," the pretty girl practically ran from the room as my mother stormed into my father's office, went up to him as he was getting up from his desk, and slapped him across the face. _

_"You bastard!" She screamed at him as she shoved him in the chest. He said nothing, and merely straightened his tie. _

_"I have a meeting to go to. I'll speak to you later about this," he spoke calmly as he started toward his door, but my mother pulled him back._

_"Oh no you will not. You will stay right here and tell me what's going on, Jacob. Just tell me truthfully: are you having an affair?" My mother bit her lip after she asked this, as if trying to mentally prepare herself for the answer. My father raised his eyebrows and then quickly lowered them again and sat back down in his desk. _

_"Yes." His answer made my mother whimper and I held her hand. I really had no idea what was going on – I had no idea what an "affair" was, or why it made my mother so upset and I had no idea why my father was being so blasé about it. However, I said nothing because my father scared me. He was acting normal here, but when he came home every night he'd take a bottle out of the cabinet in the living room and he would change… _

_"I'm leaving you, then," my mother finally spoke, and then she waited for another thirty seconds. "Unless… you promise me that you will never cheat on me ever again. I'll give you a second chance… Jacob? Please?" her eyes looked like glass and they caught the light in a hundred different ways. She was so beautiful. Cheat… I knew what that meant. How could have cheated on someone so wonderful? He nodded as a reply and then got up and strode out of his office like he owned the building, which he didn't. My mother, brother, and I left soon after and I didn't understand why, but I was crying silently. My mother didn't notice, but my brother did and he smiled horribly at me. We were slowly walking through the lobby when I stopped and refused to go any further. I stopped dead and let go of my mother's hand. _

_"Why?" I asked her. "Why didn't you hit him like he hits you?" I thought of when she slapped and shoved him, but that was nothing like what he did to her; he wouldn't have marks that he needed to cover up with makeup the next day. She looked panicked for a moment and looked frantically around to make sure nobody had heard my little outburst._

_"Don't ever say anything like that ever again," she muttered murderously as she grabbed my arm and tried to pull me toward the big glass doors again. _

_"No!" I yelled and stood my ground._

_"Is there a problem here, ma'am?" I heard a voice and looked around to see a young man, around 21 or 22 years old standing beside my mother. She looked afraid for a moment and then explained that I was a very dramatic little girl and that I needed to be taken home right away. She addressed him as "Mr. Wayne". _

_"Please call me Bruce," he had a nice smile. "Hey," he said bending his knees to crouch at my level. "Cheer up, let's see…" he dug into his pocket for a moment and then brought something out – a candy. "Here you go. Do you promise your mother and me that you'll stop crying?" I nodded and he put the candy in my hand. "What's your name, honey?" he asked smiling and I replied in barely a whisper:_

_"Sky."_

_"That's a beautiful name," he smiled again and straightened up. He said goodbye to my mother and smiled at me once again before leaving for the elevators. I watched him until he disappeared into one and turned around to face my mother once again. I took her hand and we finally left the building and went home. _

_That night my father came home in a drunken stupor once again. He hit my mother and called her names. He threw a chair at me and I neatly dodged it – I'd had a lot of practice. He demanded of my brother another drink before he threw another punch at my sobbing mother and ignored my screaming at him to stop. _

_I finally realized that night that I hated my father more than anything or anyone in the entire world. I wanted him to die, I wanted to kill him myself, but instead I ran into my room, buried my face in my pillow and cried until my throat hurt. _

-----

I woke up, my head reeling from the memory – I felt my face and realized that there were tears streaming from my eyes. It was strange, I so very rarely cried and there I was crying for the second time in two days.

I looked at my clock and saw that I'd only been asleep for an hour. What a horrible dream… memory. I'd dreamed about part of my childhood, and although it was only one day, it was a major day at that. I lied back down on my (purple) feather pillow and closed my eyes. It was painful to think about, my childhood that is. I hadn't thought about it in years. I had blocked it from my memory and whenever I felt it creeping up on me like a dark shadow, I would push it away by distracting myself with something – cleaning my room, going for a walk, phoning whoever my boyfriend was at the point. None of boyfriends ever knew about my life before they met me; I had kept my entire life a secret from everyone I had ever known. If someone ever asked me about my parents I would lie and say that they were dead – it wasn't much of a lie – they were dead to me, anyway.

I turned over and tried to fall back asleep, but I couldn't. I was no longer tired, so I turned the light on beside my bed, but lied back down afterwards and _thought_. I thought about the life that I had neglected to think about for over four years.

-----

_Ten years old. My father lost his job at Wayne Enterprises and came home drunk again even though he had stopped drinking for three years before that. He still wasn't a good person when he was sober (he still treated me like I was a burden) but at least he never hit my mother or me anymore. He had never hit my brother, ever. He was proud of my horrid sibling who excelled in everything he tried. He never had to try being evil though, he was born with that little gift, along with the gift of being the only person to make me cry other than my father before he stopped drinking. However, as I watched my father stumble into my house the night he lost his job and as I saw the realization and fear set into my mother's eyes, I felt sad, but I didn't feel like crying. I was just completely disgusted with him. I mentally prepared myself for the beating as he flew into the kitchen and started yelling incoherently. I soon realized that the incoherent words were directed at my mother and me – he was blaming us for everything once again. She was crying and I just glared at him; I'd lost all feeling in my body and mind. I hated him for being evil. I hated my brother for taking after him. But I also hated my mother. I hated her for being weak and pathetic, always threatening to leave him but never actually going through with it. She'd cry and beg him to change for her but she would never do anything to stop him from hitting her. It was too painful to watch all of the time so I just built a wall – of sorts – around me. No one could get in, not even my mother, especially not my mother because she was the only one who would be able to break it down. _

_My father walked (stumbled) toward me and raised his hand. I didn't even flinch. He didn't like this, so he brought it down on me and knocked me to the ground as my mother cried out to him to stop. He didn't. He kicked me as I lay on the ground and spat on my collapsed form. He eventually stopped that and picked me up by my long, dark hair and growled when he saw my face, which was blank of emotion. No hurt, no sadness, no fear. Just… nothing… except for one thing – hate. I hated him with every cell on my little body. _

_"Put me down." I glared into his drunken face, and he dropped me to the ground and called me some profane word that made my mother gasp. He told her to shut up, and even shoved my brother out of the way as he stormed his way through our house, knocking over lamps and breaking things until he got to his room and slammed the door. _

-----

I glanced at the glaring red clock beside my bed again and it read 6:30 am. Half an hour until I was "woken up". I threw my covers and blankets off me and dangled my feet over the side of the large bed. I jumped off and made my way to my dresser to pick out my outfit for the day and decided on a black shirt and black pants. I wore purple socks, a purple headband, and my green belt to please the Joker. I looked at my vanity and smiled; it was actually kind-of a cute outfit. I sat down and pulled out the drawers to the vanity until I found what I was looking for: my favourite glossy violet lipstick, lime green eye shadow, my liquid black eyeliner, and my kohl eyeliner pencil. As I got to work on my face, my thoughts drifted once again…

-----

_It was Halloween, my favourite day of the year for two reasons: I could dress up as oddly as I wanted to and my mother wouldn't look at me disapprovingly, and it was my birthday. I was 12 years old, and it was the first time that I was allowed to go out trick-or-treating by myself. My mum took a picture of me before I left, giving me the typical mum-speech. Be home by 11:00 pm, don't get into trouble, be safe, watch when you cross the street, etc, etc. I nodded and rolled my eyes and dove out the door the second after she said have fun. I was free, if only for one night. This would be one night that my father would come home and I wouldn't be there for him to abuse. My brother was out with his friends, unfortunately for me. My mother wanted me to watch out for cars? It would be a lot smarter if I watched out for him. He was seventeen, and stronger than he had ever been. He had inherited my father's strong build, blue eyes, and blond hair, so naturally he was one of the most popular guys in the high school. It also probably helped that he was a quarterback on the football team. He looked at me as if I was a slug, even though even his friends commented on my looks. _

_"Too bad she's only a kid, man. If she was a little older I'd totally love to – " _

_"Shut the hell up, she's my sister I don't wanna hear that." He'd sneer at them and they'd back off. They knew better than to pick a fight with him, especially if he was intoxicated. He'd inherited my father's love of alcohol, and drank all the time and came home from parties only to pass out almost the instant he came home. This was fine with me; he could punch a lot harder than my father could, I learned, and I was happy if he passed out before he saw me. But that Halloween, I would stay away from him and his gang of football jocks. I would get some candy, scare some kids maybe, and have a nice, violence-free night. I left my neighbourhood early on in the evening, and went to the wealthier neighbourhood a few streets over. They would give out more candy, and there was less of a chance of running into my brother over there. To get there I had to cut across the park, a lively, beautiful place with gardens and fountains and clean playgrounds. Little kids dressed up as pumpkins and ghosts and black cats ran giggling past me, their mothers chasing and calling after them. It made me happy, which was a rare emotion for me to feel. _

_After a couple hours of walking around, it was 10:00 and I decided to sit down on a bench on the sidewalk and eat some candy. I'd visited enough houses and had a giant bag filled with goodies, but I didn't want to go home until as late as possible. My father would have been home for a couple hours by that time, so he was probably drunk. I felt terrible for leaving my mother with him all that time (I didn't hate her anymore of course, I'd grown up and realized that nothing was her fault) but she'd managed to live every other night that she'd been married to him, so I decided not to worry and just enjoy my candy and read the book that I had brought with me, knowing as I packed it earlier that I'd have some time between the gathering of candy and going home. _

_About fifty minutes later I decided that I'd left it late enough to get home and I packed my candy and book in the backpack that I'd brought with me. Getting up and walking down the street I suddenly realized what I had to do to get home: I had to walk through the park. The park was a wonderful place in the day and the evening, but as the small children and their parents went home, troublemakers and drug-addicts and criminals came out, and many went to the park. For example, I knew that Danny, my brother, often inhabited the park with his friends from the hours between nine and midnight. It was ten minutes to eleven – he was definitely there. But it was a large park, and dark at this hour so I thought that I might have been able to get through the park unnoticed. _

_That was a futile thought, because my brother was sitting at a picnic table with his group in the middle of the park. I heard him boom out, if slurring his words a little, "Hey, _Freak_! Come over here and say 'ello to yer brother's friends. I want 'em to see you… see what a screw-up I hafta deal with at home." I stepped toward the group slowly and he called me a moron and told me to hurry up. When I reached him, he said to his friends, "See? Look at her. Little Goth. She's wearing black lipstick."_

_"It's Halloween, though, Danny," a girl said, looking at him a little disapprovingly. I remembered her; she was my brother's girlfriend. She was always really nice to me when she came over to our house; I hoped he never hurt her. Another one of his friends agreed with her, it was another boy on the football team – he was good looking, with short, dark hair and kind brown eyes, but my brother told them both to shut up as he got up from his bench and strode over to me. He grabbed my chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted my head up to him. I was so much shorter than him – he was 6'1" and I was 4'10" (My eventual full grown height was 5'1", but I always wore high shoes to make myself taller). He called me a freak again and pushed me to the ground and told me to go home, and his friends gasped and the boy with the kind eyes helped me up. I smiled sadly at him and practically ran home. I was already late. _

_When I threw open the door I was met with screaming, but something was off. It wasn't my father, it was my mother, and she was mad. _

_"How could you do this to me again? How could you do this to our family?" I told you I would leave you last time –" she yelled. _

_"Yeah like you've told me about thirty times over the last how many years?" my father asked with a smirk in his voice. _

_"I mean it this time, I'm leaving. Tonight. I can't stay here with you anymore. I -" my mother faltered. "I hate you. I have for so long." _Finally_, I thought. It took her so long to say that. She ran past me and into her room, and I scurried into my own room before my father saw me. I fell asleep quickly that night, smiling peacefully for the second time that day. My mother had finally stood up to him, and we were leaving that night. Of course it would be _we_, she would never leave without me. And just as I thought I would be, I was awoken in the early hours of the morning – 3:00 or 4:00. _

_"Sweetie, wake up," my mother gently shook me awake and I looked into her sad eyes and smiled._

_"Are we really leaving?" I asked. I had waited for so long for that moment. _

_"Sky…" she looked away and bit her lip – a nervous habit that I had picked from her. "I can't… I can't take you with me," she cried quietly and held my hand. I was confused. _

_"What do you mean?" I asked. This could not happen. _

_"He will find me if I take you. He will say that I kidnapped you, honey I'm sorry. You have no idea-"_

_"No! He hates me. He won't care if I'm gone!" I protested. "Don't leave me here with him. With them," I thought of my brother. _

_"I love you. I'll come back for you. I love you. So much. Wait for me," she was sobbing as she let go of my hand and left my room. I jumped up from my bed and ran to my window where I saw her get into a taxi. She looked at me once more and I saw her, although I couldn't hear her, say "I love you" and the cab drove away. _

_I found out from my father that she left ultimately because he'd had another affair, and I waited for her for five-and-a-half years of pure hell with my father and brother. She never came. And then after I finished high school I left, like her, in the middle of the night. I was seventeen, five months away from being eighteen, and I'd made enough money to leave my father's house and go to the city of Gotham, where I didn't know anyone and I could start my life over. _

-----

Of course that didn't exactly work out as I had planned, nothing ever did. I wanted to go to college and get a good paying job, meet a great guy, and live in a nice apartment. Even a house, if I was lucky. But college was more expensive than I'd ever imagined it would be, and all the guys I'd met were somewhat less-than-great. I stayed in my little dirty apartment from the time I had moved to the city until a couple of days before, and worked at Starbucks and a waitressing job that I was fired from two weeks before. So maybe, if I thought about it, getting kidnapped by the Joker was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

I looked at the mirror when I was finished applying my makeup and smiled. I looked like someone brave, strong, even though inside I was falling apart. I heard the door open behind me, and his voice rang out through the silence in my room.

"Wake up… oh, you _are_ awake. I hope you slept?" he asked, and I turned around and nodded. "Good. We have a busy day ahead of us, Beautiful." And with that, he giggled and shut the door again.

-----

**Note: Okay, so this wasn't a well-written chapter. I just wanted you all to know Sky's history before I went on with the story. **


	4. Laugh

**Note: I said to some people that I wouldn't get this chapter up today, but I have finished it! Yayz. Anyway, it might be a couple days before I get the next chapter up, sorry. **

**Oh and thanks for all the reviews guys, you're so great.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker. I do own Sky Mortimer. **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Four. Laugh._

After he was gone I realized that the Joker's little "Plan" for the day was probably somewhat malevolent and I ran to my door and threw it open.

"Joker!" I yelled down the hall and he spun around and gave me a surprised look.

"Miss me already?" he asked, grinning. I jogged up to him.

"Where are we going today? What are we doing that you seem so excited about? Is it something terrible? Nobody's going to get… hurt, right?" I asked each question one right after another so that they seemed to jumble frantically together in my head. Then I chewed on my lip until it hurt while I waited for his answer, which came after he finished laughing at me.

"Honey," he said, smiling condescendingly, "this is me we're talking about here. Of _course_ people are going to get hurt! I wouldn't be any fun if they didn't, now would it? Why, if we're lucky, some people might actually be _killed_!" He looked ecstatic at the mere thought of it and I drew in a shaky breath.

"Then I refuse to go with you to… wherever you're going. I will not be even remotely responsible for –" I was cut off as he abruptly pinned me up against the wall of the hallway. My feet were dangling nearly a foot from the ground as he lifted me up for my face to be on level with his.

"You will do… what I want you to do. I –" he smacked his lips, "you see, I really don't _care_ if you don't want to see anyone get hurt. In fact, I don't care about what you want at all. I care about what _I_ want. And I do get want I want. Always." I was terrified for my life, and when he brought that horrible switchblade out of his pocket I started struggling, but it was useless; he was too strong. He flicked it open and slowly but softly trailed it down my neck, not even marking the skin. "I like you, so you'll understand that I don't want to kill you," he said, and bought the knife up my neck, over my chin, and then ran it softly over my trembling purple lips. He trailed the tip of it more slowly over my bottom lip and spoke again. " You will do what I want." He stopped the knife at the corner of my mouth, threatening cuts like his. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-y-yes," I whispered. He dropped me to the ground and smiled happily.

"Well good! We'll have a nice day then, won't we?" he raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in a wide grin as if he couldn't wait for my answer. I barely nodded. He reached down and picked me up, smiling. "I like your lipstick by the way, Sweetheart," he lickedhis knife. "Grape! My favourite. How did you know?" And as he walked away he ordered, "Meet me downstairs in ten minutes!" waving his knife in the air. I stayed leaning against that wall for a few minutes and then decided that I had better get my outdoor gear on before my ten minutes was up than face the consequences – whatever they were.

When I got into my room I first re-applied my purple lipstick, then I put on my black combat boots, and lastly my purple coat that the Joker had shoplifted for me when we first met. I realized that it was very cold outside because it was winter, and dug through my drawers to find that he had even remembered to get a pair of black gloves and a cute purple hat for me. I put them on and finally looked in the mirror… and laughed. There I was getting ready to go wreak havoc on some poor unsuspecting people and I looked like I was heading out to a fashion show – I was so oddly coordinated with all the purple and black and the little hint of lime-green that was my belt.

When I was done admiring my outfit, I took a deep breath and made my way to my door, not knowing what to expect for the day.

-----

"What's your name?" The Joker asked suddenly, breaking the silence in the van. We'd been driving for a while, (it was 9:30, it had taken a while to get organized at the warehouse because one person who was supposed to bring some stuff was really late and he was killed as soon as he arrived) at a normal speed thankfully. That was probably because it was one of his subordinates that were driving instead of him.

"Sky Mortimer, you didn't know that?" I asked. "How did you know where I live, er- _lived_, then, if you didn't even know my name?" I was so puzzled. He of course just chuckled.

"That's _my_ secret, Beautiful. And you are beautiful. Look at you, with that snow-pale skin and those dark eyes," he sighed mockingly. "And that _outfit_. Of course that's thanks to me –" he was cut off as we were abruptly flung to the side of the van and I was hurled against the side, hurting my arm. The Joker picked himself up and looked completely livid.

"What _exactly_ was that for, hmm?" he asked the driver.

"S-sorry sir I forgot where we was goin' and I-I had to turn real quick. Sorry!"

"Just keep your eyes on the road," the Joker said disgustedly. I wondered if all of the people on his team were badly educated. I'd heard that a lot of them were insane or of damaged mind, so it didn't really surprise me that he attracted uneducated minds as well, minds that should have but didn't really know any better. The Joker turned back to me and looked surprised to see me cradling my arm. "Did you get hurt?" he asked, actually seeming concerned.

"I'm fine," I denied and moved but winced in pain.

"No. You're not," he said, enunciating every word. "Let me see –"

"No," I leaned away from him thinking that he would inflict more pain. Instead he crouched down and beckoned me toward him.

"I won't hurt you. I give you my word." And for some reason, I trusted him. I moved over to him and he took off my jacket very carefully and then lifted up the sleeve of my black shirt.

"Ow," I said, wincing in pain once again.

"Well it's not broken: that's good. Hm, I think, oh yes here it is. See? It's just pretty badly bruised," he gestured for me to look down and I did, seeing a huge blue bruise already forming on my upper arm. He moved to his arm up to brush my long hair from my arm so he could see the bruise fully. And taking my arm gently into his hand, he moved it around a little. "Does this hurt a lot? More than it does already?" I shook my head from side to side and he smiled again. "Well then it's definitely not broken, and I don't think it's sprained either. Just a little bruise!" A _little_ bruise? It was the size of the palm of my hand! I was going to retort back to him when the van unexpectedly swerved again and the Joker lost his balance and fell into me. His head hit mine painfully, but he managed not to fall on me and put his arm around my back to stop me from hitting the door again. The van righted itself and once again began traveling at a constant pace and straight line, but the Joker still didn't let me go.

"Um, thanks…?" I raised my eyebrows, trying to subtly hint that it was fine for him to let me go. He didn't get it.

"You have a bump on your head."

"Um yeah, your head hit mine when the van swerved ag –" I explained, but he interrupted me.

"Does it hurt?"

"The bump? A little I guess but it's fine. No more than my arm. Can I, uh, get up now? Please?" I decided that I'd had enough of subtleties and I felt completely awkward. He realized this and grinned.

"What? Feel a little uncomfortable?" He leaned in closer to me – his body was pressed up against mine – and propped himself up on the elbow of his arm he had around my waist. He lifted his other arm up and gently brushed my hair away from my face with his fingers and breathed in. "You smell… _divine_. Simply wonderful. Like me!"

"That's probably because I had to use your soap," I muttered and he burst out laughing.

"I would imagine that would be the reason. Either that…" he paused and grinned deviously, "or it could be the fact that you're so _close_ to me, _and_ you're living at my place, so you're just taking on my lovely scent!"

"Alright I guess so…" I said, still feeling awkward. What a weird conversation. But it was mercifully cut short when the van stopped abruptly and he tumbled off of me.

"We're there boss," the driver faced the back and looked me up and down as I was lying on the floor and he laughed. "Wanna leave _her_ in here with me? I'll take real good care of her," he leered. The Joker grabbed something beside him and ordered both the driver and me out of the van. We got out and the moron kept talking. "How 'bout it, huh boss? She's really –" _BANG!_ The Joker took aim and fired a bullet right into the chest of the driver, who promptly fell to the ground, dead. I stood there gaping for a moment when the Joker grabbed the body and hauled it into a nearby dumpster.

"Trash!" he exclaimed once he was finished and giggled at his little joke. He looked at me encouragingly, waiting for me to laugh.

"Ha… ha?" I questioned, and he rolled his eyes.

"_Laugh_ Girlie! Laugh like… like you're having the time of your life. Have you ever laughed in your life, Sky? Hmm? Other than the strange times in the last couple days. When was the last time you _really_ laughed?"

"When I…" Wait, when was the last time I had laughed? I couldn't remember. "I-I don't know…"

"You don't _know_? Has it really been that long?" He was still laughing, and I stood there, completely confused, trying to remember the last time I had really laughed. It had been such a long time. All I ever thought of all the time was how alone I had always been, how I could never bring myself to love someone, how I couldn't even bring myself to trust anyone…

"Oh well. Maybe it's an affliction that you have. Like a syndrome. You have an inability to laugh at appropriate times. What do you think?"

"Maybe." I replied sullenly and he clicked his tongue and then told me to get back in the van.

"But I thought that we were there?" I asked.

"We are. But I want to wait until night. It's more fun that way!" he pulled the door open and held out his arm. "Ladies first!" I got in and he followed.

"Can you tell me where we are now? What you're planning?" I asked.

"Of course I can tell you!" He exclaimed, acting surprised like I hadn't asked before. "We're at 'Wayne Enterprises'. I assume you've heard of it?" He chuckled: everyone had heard of Wayne Enterprises. But I knew it even better than most. I had even met the owner, Bruce Wayne. I remembered his kind smile and his reassuring manner, and felt a pang in my heart.

"Wayne Enterprises?" I gulped. "What do you want here?" He smiled.

"There's a fundraising party here tonight! You like parties?" he didn't wait for my answer. "Anyway, I crashed one here a few months ago. Did you hear about it?" I nodded. "Well it was a lot of fun. And I got to see Batsy! He likes me, so he'll definitely come if I show up tonight. He was there in a flash last time, managed to save Harvey Dent _and_ the lovely Rachel Dawes… that time. Ha ha," This infuriated me. They had both died not long afterwards. Because of the Joker. "Anyway, I like to have a good time as you know, and fighting the Batman is one of my favourite things to do! Plus, if we get to kill a few party people in the meantime, it'll be a real blast, don't you think?" I shook my head violently from side to side, and he sighed.

"Why do you do this? Why do you like to ruin people's lives?" I cried out in a sudden outburst.

"Why?" he asked me, laughing. "Why? Because it's fun! Why can't you see it –" he tapped his chest, "from my perspective?" I said nothing and turned away from him, probably looking like a sulking child and he sighed dramatically again. "So, what do you want to do for the next ten hours, huh Beautiful?" I turned and gave him a bizarre glare, wondering what he was implying, but he put his hands up, as if in surrender. "_You_," he said, "_Sky_, have a really scary glare." That was the second time he had called me by my real name. It was so much better than hearing those nicknames that sounded so stupid directed at me. Girlie. Sweetheart. Beautiful. I rolled my eyes just thinking about them, and he spoke again. "What? You do. It scares _me_, and that's something." I didn't reply, still in my angry mood, so he changed the subject. "You look tired. Are you?"

"Yeah I am. But there is no way in hell I'm sleeping when you're in here," I said and he replied:

"Ha, you really are scared of me, aren't you? You're so good at hiding it, I never knew." I wondered how in the world I was good at hiding my fear of him; I always thought that I made it so embarrassingly obvious. "Here I was," he said, shaking his head sadly, "thinking that you were always so nervous of me because you had a little crush on your captor. Silly me." I was speechless for a moment or two, dumfounded, then I managed to spit out,

"I-I- _What_?! No!" I sputtered, completely shocked that he even said something so… completely messed up.

"I'm offended!" He exclaimed as I still regarded him with wide, stupefied eyes. And then he dropped his act and furrowed his brow, suddenly leaning so close to me I thought for one ridiculous second he was going to kiss me. He didn't, and stopped a couple inches away from my face, staring at my cheek. "What is that?" he asked, and I had no idea what he was talking about. "A… scar?" And then I knew what he saw, a small, half-an-inch line on my cheek and I brought my hand up to cover it.

"Yes. It's nothing," I said, turning away. He ignored me.

"How did you get it? I'll tell you how I got mine –" He seemed excited, like a child.

"It's nothing! I got it when I was a kid. Someone hit me. Hard. I needed stitches. Alright?" I said, remembering just one of the many times my father had beaten me. That time he broke the skin deeply and I'd needed stitches. The scar had thankfully healed well – it was nearly invisible – but the Joker still managed to notice it.

"Huh. Who?" He was way too rude, but I didn't feel like lying.

"My father."

"I hated my father."

"Me too."

"Seems like we have something in common then, huh Beautiful?"

"Yes it does."

We sat in the van for so long after that I'd thought that we'd never leave it again. Sometimes we talked and I'd get mad at him or he'd look like he was ready to shoot me but he never did, which was nice. After several hours I heard a vehicle pull up beside ours.

"Ah, that would be the rest of our team!" He said, and excitement for the night to come was evident on his face. "Let's go! It's seven thirty already. The party started half an hour ago so… just to make sure everyone is here we'll wait another half hour. We need to get everything set up anyway. Ready?" He regarded me, smiling maniacally.

"No…" I said, but got out of the van shakily and as I stared up at the top of the building, I hoped desperately that Bruce Wayne wasn't there to see the horrible person that I had become.


	5. Wrong

**Note: Happy New Year! And thanks for more comments everyone. :)**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Joker or Batman. Sky Mortimer © me (Starlit Insanity). **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Five. Wrong._

After the clowns and the Joker were finished getting everything organized for crashing the party, they began to walk toward the back doors of the building. I stayed where I was, too nervous to move.

"Aren't you coming?" The Joker turned around and asked me. "Come on! It'll be fun, I guarantee it." I still didn't move, so he left his group and walked back toward me. "Let's _go_!" He said impatiently. He grabbed my hand and half-dragged me to the doors where the clowns had gone through. He slammed the door open by kicking it, and I saw that the four clowns (the team was supposed to consist of five clowns, but the Joker had killed the fifth, who was our driver) were grouped around the elevator, awaiting his instructions. "Alright," he began. "We're going to go up there, threaten a few people's lives, don't kill anyone without me telling you to. If you do, you will regret it. All we're going to do is terrorize everyone until the _Batman_ shows up. I've had a pretty boring couple of weeks without any excitement–" he looked at me, "no offense dear–" and then he looked back at his team again, "so this will be a great time!" He seemed quite happy about his nonsensical plan, but I saw one guy shift uncomfortably.

"Uh… boss?" The Joker looked uninterested, but he replied anyway.

"Hm?"

"What if the Batman catches one of us? We might go to jail and he could hurt us…"

"Yeah?" Not able to understand the clown's problem, he raised his eyebrows and looked confused.

"I don't want to get hurt. I'm scared of him, I knew a guy once who met him and I don't think–"

"That's right. You don't think. You didn't think. Why exactly did you come in the first place?" The Joker walked slowly toward him, and drew a knife out of his coat pocket. "Didn't you realize that this might be a little _dangerous_? Didn't you _think_ at all?" The Joker was standing right in front of him, grabbed the back of his neck, and brought the knife up to the man's masked mouth. "Do you wanna know how I got my scars?"

"Oh Boss no! Please don't! Please!" The man struggled in the Joker's grip and wailed like a child.

"No? Okay then." And he took off the mask and cut the corners of the man's mouth while he screamed, and then cut his throat and the man dropped to the floor, dead. The rest of the men watched without any apparent emotion, but I stood there shaking, watching the blood pour like a river from the man's face and neck. The blood spread all around him and would have reached my shoes had the Joker not come and scooped me up in his arms, saying " Wouldn't want to get your shoes all dirty now, would we?" I looked into his dark eyes and trembled.

"You… are a monster. A sick, twisted, _monster_." He laughed then and said:

"Why, you think so, Sweetheart? That makes me a little sad. I didn't need him, can't you understand that? He was a detriment to my plan. He would have ruined the whole thing. I have an image, as you know. And that image does not include someone like, well, like him. Right?" He looked at me and waited for my answer. I didn't know what he would do to me if I answered wrong, but I decided to take a chance, and I spoke in a small voice, almost a whisper.

"He didn't have to die." I waited for a violent reaction, but he just chuckled.

"Everyone dies – it's a part of life. You never know, he could have died of cancer in a few years, or been hit by a car and left in hospital, suffering for days before he died. I just sped up the process a little. I may have done him a favour in the long run!" He spoke quickly, still holding me in his arms, and he motioned for some of the other men to take the body outside, and put it in the dumpster like he had with the driver. I said nothing, even though I could sort-of see his point. The man couldn't have had a good life anyway, and it probably only would have gotten worse if he'd stayed with the Joker.

Once the men were back inside, the Joker put me back on the ground and we all piled onto the elevator. It was slow, and while we traveled I studied the small space. It was very nice – brass walls with clean mirrors, a black tile floor, and a mirrored ceiling. The Joker saw me looking around and smiled.

"Like your reflection, or were you just staring at me?" Some of his men laughed, and I felt my face heat up. After that, I just stared at the floor until we reached the top and I heard a bell "ding", signifying the fact that we had reached our long-awaited destination. The doors opened and nobody in the large room noticed at first who the new guests were until the Joker fired a gun into the air. Everyone screamed and ducked, their eyes all fixed, terrified, on the Joker. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said in his traditional way of entering a place. "I trust you are all well?" I heard a man behind me say, "Not for long" and he got a warning glare from the Joker. "Hello, sir," the Joker said, and walked up to a man standing near the front of the group and the man flinched away. This angered the Joker, and he put his knife up the man's face, but not in the spot he usually did. "What's wrong?" he asked, as he trailed the knife down the man's face, leaving a red line of blood from just below his eye to his jaw line. The man cried out in pain, his wife bravely yelled at the Joker to stop, and stepped forward from the crowd as people gasped around her. She was around thirty, she was tall, with long blond hair and an angular face.

"What makes you think you can do this? Let him go now!" She yelled, and even the Joker looked surprised.

"You _are_ pretty. What a lucky man, your husband is he?" he gestured to the bleeding man who was holding his face, and the woman nodded. "Ah. What a lucky man your husband is to have such a brave and _beautiful_ wife." And as he said that, I felt a flare of jealousy within me. Then I wanted to kick myself, and I wondered what in the world was wrong with me. The Joker continued as the woman looked at him repulsively. "I used to have a wife," he said matter-of-factly. "She was beautiful, like you."

"I really don't care," the woman said and the Joker dove at her, put his knife up to the woman's cheek and gave her a similar deep cut to her husband's. He laughed when she cried out, and the man ran up to his wife and held her. I regarded the scene with horror in my eyes and another person stepped out of the crowd, and this one was holding a knife. He started to sneak up behind the Joker, but was promptly shot by one of the clowns. The Joker slowly turned around and looked, unimpressed, at the clown.

"What did I say?" the Joker asked him.

"But Boss! He was gonna kill you!"

"Did you really think," the Joker asked as he walked toward him, "that I didn't know that he was behind me? Do you really give my intelligence that little of credit?" The man shook his head and began to say "no" but the Joker grabbed him by the neck and then dragged him over to the window; the people parted to create a sort-of path. He shot the window, and then threw the clown out, and he screamed the whole way down. It was silent for a few moments after that, before the Joker spoke again, this time to me. "Don't look at me like that, Sweetheart," he said, and was about to say something else when some genius recognized me.

"Hey that's the girl who was kidnapped!" the young man yelled, and everyone gasped and started speaking.

"Will you all please stop speaking?" the Joker asked, looking impatient. Everyone listened to him, and shut their mouths accordingly. He smiled. "Alright! Now who wants to have some fun now?" He asked, and a gravelly voice appeared behind him.

"I do." And the black figure slammed into the Joker's back, sending him sprawling on the floor at my feet. He looked up at me, and I somehow managed to see through his red makeup that his lip had split, and was bleeding, the blood slowly making its way to his chin. I had alarm in my eyes, but the Joker smiled at me and sprang up back on his feet and turned around to face Batman.

"There you are! A bit late aren't you?" The Joker was practically bouncing with excitement, while Batman just glared at him. "Come on. Wanna play?" Batman swung, but he dodged him and laughed hysterically. "A little out of shape, aren't you?" Batman growled a reply and dove at him, but Joker threw one of the clowns in Batman's way. The clown tried to hit him, but was easily defeated and knocked unconscious. There was only one clown left, and he fearlessly jumped at Batman; Batman tirelessly knocked the man's head on the tile floor and he didn't get up.

"You are not going to get away this time. You'll be locked away tonight," Batman said to the Joker, who just laughed.

"Oh really? You've said that before and yet," he held out his arms, "here I am." And then Batman said something that surprised me.

"Give up the girl." Batman flicked his gaze to me, while the Joker slowly turned to me and raised his eyebrows and pursed his bleeding lips. He looked back at Batman and said simply,

"Um, no."

"Why not?" Batman asked menacingly. "Why do you need her?"

"She's my hostage. Plus, I like her. She's fun."

"You sick bastard," Batman growled, getting the wrong impression from the Joker's words. Joker said nothing; he didn't bother to deny the false accusation and I felt my face heat up again. I was too busy wondering why the Joker didn't argue with Batman to notice the crashing going on around me as the two men fought, and then I looked up to see Batman run at Joker, and then at the last second run _around_ him and straight at me. I yelled and raised my arms up to cover my face, but he caught me around my middle and cradled me in his arms. "You will not hurt her anymore," he said, and I looked at the shocked face of the Joker. That was the last thing I saw before Batman dove out the window that the Joker had broken earlier. I began screaming, but the Batman told me to put my arms around his neck and to not let go. I did, and he spread he arms out and I realized that we were gliding instead of falling to our deaths.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, but he didn't reply – he just looked straight ahead, soaring through the cold winter air. It was really quite terrifying, dangling in the air, but in a strange way it was exhilarating once I got used to it. However, it only lasted for a few minutes and we landed roughly on the ground outside of a beautiful hotel. He opened the doors and motioned me to go through, so I did and stopped dead once I entered. It was _beautiful_. The most incredible place I had ever seen in my entire life – everything shone and sparkled as if it were really made of diamonds, even the wood. My staring was interrupted, however, when Batman took my arm and dragged me to the front desk, where the clerk was staring at Batman incredulously.

"C-can I help you, sir?" the clerk asked and Batman put a lot of money on the desk.

"Put this girl in a top-floor suite," he said and the clerk nodded dumbly.

"Can I have her name?" He asked and Batman looked down at me.

"Sky Mortimer," I told the clerk, a small smile on my lips in the attempt to reassure him.

"… Sky? Your name is Sky" Batman asked quietly. This annoyed me. Was he mocking me?

"Yeah, what of it?"

"… That's a nice name," he replied, still quietly. What a strange person. The clerk finally got my key and gave it to me, his eyes still on Batman. The two of us left, and made our way over to the elevator, and I was wondering what my room would look like.

It was a silent ride on the elevator, and I wanted to say something but couldn't think of anything. When we reached the top floor the doors opened to reveal a small room with halls breaking off from it. We went down the hall to our left and traveled until we reached Room # 3056. I put the key (which was actually a card) in the slot and opened the door to reveal a room that was somehow even more beautiful than the lobby downstairs, and it was huge. One bedroom, a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom the size of my used-to-be apartment.

"Wow," I breathed, and I looked at the Batman, suddenly realizing that I hadn't thanked him for his gallant rescue earlier. I didn't feel rescued, though. I remembered the Joker laughing at me because I _couldn't_ laugh; I remembered his concern for my safety in the van; I remembered the look on his face as Batman jumped out the window with me. Something was definitely wrong with me. The Joker had held a knife to my face, he'd hit me... he was completely evil. Why did I miss him? I was furious with myself, but thankfully my thoughts were interrupted.

"I should be going," Batman growled behind me and I jumped.

"Oh! Right. Um," I had to thank him, it would have been rude if I didn't. Besides, he thought he'd saved me, and was helping me. "Thanks. For the room and… earlier."

"You're welcome." And then he was gone.

-----

The first thing I wanted to do in my new room was have a shower to try and clear my mind. That didn't happen because I realized that I had no clean clothes to wear. So wore a towel and washed my clothes in the sink and then had a shower while I waited for them to dry. My mind didn't clear. Also, the clothes were still soaked by the time I finished my shower so I spent half an hour drying them with the hair dryer. After that, I called for room service and had a bowl of pasta and tried to erase all thoughts and watched a mindless program on television. That didn't work. It was 11:00 by the time I shut it off and decided that I would go to bed. I had no pajamas, so I wore my underclothes with a complementary robe from the room as a substitute. I climbed into the crisp, white sheets and shut the light off, then shut my eyes. That didn't have the mind clearing effect that I had wanted either, and I tossed and turned for half-an-hour before falling asleep.

That night I had fitful dreams filled with maniacal laughter, purple suits, and bleeding, smiling lips.


	6. I'm Sorry

**Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone! :) Sorry that this took so long to get written (and it's still really short T.T). Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bruce Wayne/Batman or the Joker. Sky Mortimer © me (Starlit Insanity). **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Six. I'm Sorry._

The next morning I woke up and wondered where I was, but I remembered when my eyes un-blurred from sleep. I breathed in and sighed when I smelled the lovely scent of cooking pancakes, and then I sat blot upright. _Pancakes?_ Why was I smelling that? I peeked out my door, checked that there wasn't anybody outside of it, and walked out. The kitchen wasn't visible from where I was, so I tiptoed further and looked into my kitchen and screamed. There was a man in my kitchen – he was tall, and when he turned around I saw that he was very good-looking. His eyes went to my alarmed face and then he regarded my attire, and that's when I noticed that my robe was untied. So I wrapped it around myself, all the while screaming:

"Who the hell are you and why are you here?! Get out! Or I'll call the police!" I was hysterical, so that's why I didn't notice who the man was at first. He looked amused, and waited for me to finish my fit. When I did, he spoke.

"I am sorry, miss Mortimer, but since you were at _my_ party last night, I took it upon myself to make sure that you were comfortable here, as I do own this hotel. I thought," he paused to pick up the frying pan on the stove, "that I'd even make you breakfast." I stood there for a moment, and my mouth was gaping open as I realized just who the man in my kitchen really was.

"You're Bruce Wayne," I said, and he nodded, still looking amused. I decided to remind him of our meeting when I was young, to see if he remembered me. I doubted that he did, but it was worth a try. "We've met before!" Alarm showed up in his eyes; he was probably wondering if I was partially psychotic. "I was six! And it was at your building. You gave me a candy." He then looked relieved and he smiled.

"I do remember you. You were with your mother, if I remember correctly. How is she?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I haven't seen her for nine years."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Did she pass away?"

"No. She left."

"Oh." It was silent for a few moments and I felt guilty for yelling at him before, so I changed the subject to one not so awkward.

"So, I'm very sorry for earlier. What were you making?" I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Pancakes. You do like pancakes, right?" I was right, that was what the smell was. He looked concerned, but I reassured him.

"I love them! It was so nice of you to do this," I said. "By the way, how did you get in?"

"I have connections. Plus, I own the building and told them that you were an old friend that I'd come to visit." He paused and I smiled dreamily at him. "Please, come into the kitchen. I believe that your breakfast is ready."

-----

After breakfast was finished, and the dishes were cleaned, Bruce Wayne asked me if I would like to go shopping for new clothes. When I told him that I didn't have any money, he just smiled and said that he was planning on buying them.

It was a beautiful day, and he took me into the most luxurious stores that I had ever been in. And even though I was no longer the captive of the Joker, I mainly got black clothes and some purple and green ones. If Bruce found that odd, he didn't mention anything.

After hours of trying on and clothes, we were finally finished and we got a ride back to the hotel because my feet hurt too much to walk. We dropped off my bags and I noticed one from a store that I didn't remember going to.

"What's this? Oh no," a thought occurred to me, "did we pick up someone else's bag?" Bruce smiled and picked it up.

"Actually," he said, "while you were talking to the salesperson, I dashed off and picked this up. I thought you could wear it this evening."

"What's happening this evening?" I asked him, a little wary.

"Well I thought that we could go out for dinner tonight. What do you think?"

"That's very nice of you, thank-you. I would love to." I smiled and he handed me the bag.

"Tell me what you think of it. If you don't like it then I'm sure we could find something else–"

"It's incredible!" I exclaimed, and it really was. It was strapless and floor-length, with a slit right up to the hip. I had no idea what material it was made of, but it was sheer black, with small crystals on the hem. Just looking at it I could tell that it would have cost an absolute fortune. "Thank-you. Really, it's just gorgeous."

"I'm sure it will look even better on you," he said, and I blushed – he was so charming. Then I was surprised that I hadn't thought of the Joker at all. I imagined him laughing at me for having a small crush on the richest man in the city, and how he would look at the dress and leave me wondering what he was thinking… there was definitely something wrong with me. However, I pushed the Joker out of my mind and focused on Bruce Wayne, who was standing in front of me.

"So what time do I have to be ready by?"

"I made the reservation for 8:00 so if you could be ready maybe 15 minutes before that, that would be wonderful," he said, and dazzled me with his smile again. I wondered how many girls he took out on dates, and if his charming act was just that – an act. However, I pushed those thoughts out of the way as well and returned his smile.

"That's in two hours, so if you want to come back then instead of wait here for me that would be fine. Is that okay?" I didn't want to be an inconvenience or a bore to him, so I gave him that option.

"Sure, it'll probably be easier for you too." Another smile as he headed for my door. "I'll be back here in a couple hours. See you then, Sky." And then he left. I tried to calm myself down so I had another shower and washed all my makeup off from earlier that day.

When I got out and got all dressed except for my dress and I had dried my hair, I decided to put on my favourite gold eye shadow and my kohl black eyeliner to emphasize my eyes, but when I reached for my favourite purple lipstick I stopped and remembered that the Joker liked that. I wanted to erase him from my mind so I instead put on some gold lipstick that I had bought that day. It created an interesting effect, but I still liked my purple colour better. After I was done that, I looked at the clock and saw that I still had 45 minutes, so I decided to do something interesting with my hair. I put it up in a very high ponytail with some of my hair it falling on either side of my face, framing it. The rest cascaded down my back like a violet waterfall. Next, I put on my beautiful dress and then a pair of four-inch high stilettos that Bruce had bought me that day. I took one look in the mirror and gasped. I looked… not myself. I looked so elegant I was barely recognizable. It was like a magical transformation had taken place. Gone was the messy hair, gone were the ripped jeans and scuffed combat boots. I was worried that I would look strange next to Bruce Wayne when we walked into the restaurant, but when I looked into the mirror I realized that I would look like I was someone that he would belong with; I didn't just look like some penny-less girl with a sad past anymore.

I tore myself away from my reflection and looked at the clock again: 7:15. I didn't know what to do with myself, so I walked into the living room and turned on the TV. I flicked through the channels until I came upon a show that I liked so I sat down and waited for half an hour.

At exactly quarter to eight, there was a knock at my door, so I shut the television off and jumped up to answer it. Bruce looked honestly shocked when I opened the door, so to tease him I twirled around and smiled.

"What do you think?" I asked him.

"I think… that your name is actually Aphrodite and you've come to Earth just to put me under your spell." I giggled at that, and he offered me his arm. I took it and we walked down the hall, out the elevator, and onto the street, looking like the perfect couple.

The ride there wasn't long, but we talked the whole way. He was so different than me, and I couldn't imagine what he would say if I acted like myself, but I was having so much fun just talking to him. Talking to him wasn't like talking to he Joker either – it may have been a little less exciting, but I didn't have the urge to yell at him out of anger every few minutes. We arrived at the restaurant laughing at a joke that Bruce had made, and we entered through the glass doors into an elegant dining room and were shown to a table immediately.

"They have fantastic food here. You should try the seafood pasta, it's to die for," he said, so that's what I ordered, along with some white wine that was recommended with the pasta. He ordered a stake and some red wine, and we clinked our glasses together in a toast to each other to commence our meal.

We really had a great night, he was so amusing and charming, but I found that my crush was just on his looks. He was a kind and wonderful person, but not for me. I decided that I liked being his friend, and that was all. I was sure that he felt the same way, and that his initial motive for taking me out was out of pity, but I hoped that he learned to like me as a friend instead of a charity case.

After two hours of talking, dinner, wine, desert, wine, more wine, and the check, we left and his chauffeur drove us back to my hotel. I felt a little tipsy, but he seemed worse and we stumbled onto and then off of the elevator, laughing. He walked me down the hall to my room and we stopped outside of my door. I placed the key in the lock and opened the door, stopped laughing for a moment, and turned around.

"I had a lovely night, Bruce. Thank-you," I smiled at him while leaning against my open door, and stopped laughing as he returned my smile too. I was glad of my decision just to be his friend – he was such a kind person but a relationship between the two of us would never work.

"It was a pleasure, dear," he said, and stepped even closer to me than we already were. He put his hand under my chin, and leaned down and pressed his lips against mine, but I pulled away after a second.

"Bruce I'm sorry–" I said sadly, but he looked embarrassed.

"No – no it's my fault _I'm_ sorry–"

"I really like you, you're a wonderful person and I'm sure you'd be perfect… for someone else." I was so uncomfortable.

"Thank-you, Sky. I really did have a wonderful time with you tonight." He stuck out his hand. "And I am sorry, again. I don't know what I was thinking. Friends?"

"Definitely," I said, and shook his hand. "Goodnight, Bruce."

"Goodnight, Sky." He walked down the hall and I pushed open my door and I entered my room, feeling horrible. My good mood had evaporated and was replaced by a sick sense of guilt. He was the kindest a guy had ever been to me, and I had pushed him away like I had with everyone. I leaned against the door for a couple minutes and then got up and walked into my dark hotel room. It was only slightly illuminated by the city lights from outside shining through the large window in my living room. I sniffled once, and realized that I was crying. I cursed, threw my purse down, and ran into my room, throwing my self on my bed. I was so horrible, so selfish. I sobbed into my pillow, getting smudges of black mascara on the crisp, white cotton. And then, taking a deep breath in, my voice shook as I spoke in a near-silent whisper to my self. "I… hate… you." I sat up and wiped the tears from under my eyes, and brushed my hair away from my face with my fingers. For a few seconds I sat in the pitch dark that was my room, and I heard something brush the side of my bed. I froze, and then I heard a dark laugh come from the inky blackness.

"What's wrong, Beautiful? Did you miss me that much?"


	7. Rescue

**Note: I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to get this chapter up, I've had so much homework lately because it's nearly the end of the semester and I have exams coming up. Next month I'll probably have the chapters up more quickly because exams will be over. :)**

**Thanks a lot for all the reviews everyone, you're all so wonderful! **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Seven. Rescue._

I froze for a moment, and a shiver of icy fear ran down my spine. The Joker was back for me. The hope for a normal life died within me, and I feared that he would never leave me alone.

"Lost your voice, hmm?" he asked, still chuckling. I sat there for another moment, and then slowly got up from my bed and made my way over to the other side of the bedroom. I went toward the chuckling voice and finally saw a solid shape emerge from the darkness. I stopped, and asked in a tortured voice,

"Why? Why couldn't you leave me alone? I just wanted a normal life… I just wanted friends… someone who could understand me…" My voice cracked as I remembered poor Bruce, who was so kind to me.

"Do you really think _Bruce Wayne_ could understand _you_?" the Joker stopped laughing, and asked me insultingly as if he had read my mind. "He may have dressed you up as a little princess tonight, but you're still the same person inside. Oh and by the way, your makeup looks nice, but your lipstick doesn't suit you, or well, heh, _didn't_ suit you. It's gone now because of your little performance in the doorway," he giggled at this, and I felt my face heat up. _He saw that?_ "It must have been quite the blow to his ego to be turned down by someone so _beautiful_, though. So, my question is like yours, Sweetheart. Why?"

"Why what?" I asked quietly.

"Why'd you turn him down?" he asked, and then his voice developed a lower, even more devious tone, as he stepped closer to me. "Oh, _I_ know. You _secretly_ want _me_ instead of _him_, don't you? Well honestly, Beautiful, all you had to do was ask!" I could _hear _the smile in his voice as he spoke. I was too shocked for words, so surprised that he would even mention something so… _twisted_.

"You – you're… appalling!" I finally found words, and I spat them at him. To my dismay, I heard him begin to laugh again, and he moved closer to me.

"Oh really?" he asked, and trailed his gloved hand softly down the side of my face and I felt myself shiver again.

"Yes," I said as I pulled away. "Leave me alone. Just… _leave_. Now."

"Or what? Batman will come and save you and put me away forever? I don't think so, Girlie. He thinks you're safe here. He arrogantly thinks that I can't get you here," he sounded angry as he spoke of Batman. "Well I hate to tell you, Beautiful, but you aren't. You aren't safe from me anywhere. You're _mine_."

"And why exactly do you think that?" I asked him angrily. What right did he think he had over me?

"Because I like you, Beautiful. You amuse me," he replied simply, and I bristled.

"And what happens when I cease to amuse you, hmm? Are you just going to throw me away like trash, kill me when you decide that you don't like me anymore? Paint your warehouse with _my_ blood?" I ranted at him, nearly yelling.

"Maybe."

"Fine!" I yelled and stepped forward and pushed him in the chest. It was meant to provoke anger in him, but he barely moved an inch. "Just kill me now! What does it matter? You'll get a couple weeks of amusement out of me at most. Then you'll be bored, and you'll kill me then. Why prolong it when you could just do it now? Find some other poor girl to torment instead of me… just let me die." By this point I was crying and clutching at his jacket like a child. He just stared down at me, then he bent down so his face was right close to mine.

"No… no. You interest me, Sky." And he grabbed my hands softly, pried them away from his jacket, and then he walked over to my window to open the curtains. Light poured into the room from the city lights outside, and his face was dimly lit. I noticed that, for the first time, he didn't have a smirk or smile on his face. He didn't look dementedly happy or sinister… his face was devoid of all emotion as he stared out the window. In a monotone voice he spoke to me. "Change your clothes and pack what you want. There's a bag in your closet. We're leaving in 15 minutes." He turned around and took long strides across my room and closed the door, leaving me alone.

I sighed, and walked toward the bedside to turn the lamp on. It lit up the large bedroom in artificial yellow light and cast eerie shadows on the wall. My dark shape looked warped and alien silhouetted against the blue wall, and I stared at it blankly. After a couple of wasted minutes, I got to work on my packing. After fitting everything I could into the backpack and changing my clothes, I shut off the lamp and opened the door. The Joker was sitting on the couch, staring right past the TV, and directly at me.

"What?" I asked, indignant.

"Wash your face," he commanded and I retorted.

"I thought you liked my makeup."

"Not when it's in black smears and streaks down your pretty face, unless you're trying to emulate a certain someone," he said, and a smile cracked across his face. I felt my own face heat up – I hadn't realized that my makeup had run – and I stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. I looked in the mirror and started to cry again. Was I really the same person who had, only a few short hours ago, looked like the most beautiful woman in Gotham? Was I really the same person who had gone out to dinner on a date with Bruce Wayne? Was that really me? No, that was someone else. In that short period of time I had changed back into a scared, broken girl with no home, and I looked like a creature from hell to prove it. I wet a facecloth and slowly got to work removing the black stains from my pale face, and emerged from the room a few minutes later, my makeup normal once again.

"Much better!" he approved when he saw me, and he stood up after grabbing my bag. "Let's go."

"Um…" I paused. "How…?" He gave me a puzzled look. "Are we just going out through the lobby?"

"Oh no no no! We're going, uh, out through the _window_," he said, looking keen for my reaction. I gave him what he expected.

"What?! The window? We're on the top floor! Do you have any idea…" I trailed off as I imagined myself plummeting to my death and landing with a wet sounding _splatter_, and I thought of something else: "Is this how you're planning on killing me?" I asked quietly. He gave me a funny look, and then burst out laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking up and down. He finally stopped, and wiped his eyes, smearing the makeup a little.

"No, Sweetheart. I'm not going to kill you! It's really quite safe – we just, uh, go from balcony to balcony, 'till we get to the bottom floor." He finished his explanation, and I gaped at him. Was he mad? Oh, right. That was a stupid question; of course he was.

"That's… not safe."

"Well it's too bad because that's the only option we have! We can't exactly go walking through the lobby now, can we? " He slung my bag over his shoulder and made his way to the door in the living room that connected to the balcony. As he opened the door a _whoosh_ of cold air rushed in and I shivered, not taking one step toward the door. He, of course, stepped out onto the icy balcony without a second thought. "Are you coming?" he asked me. "Oh! Your coat is on the couch." I grabbed it and put it on, and, after taking a few deep breaths, stepped out onto the balcony with the Joker. I squeaked as he unexpectedly put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. "Isn't it just… _beautiful_?" He asked me, looking up at the full moon.

"Yes," I replied, and smiled – grateful for that one moment of tranquil peace that would soon be shattered. He removed his arm from around me and leaned over the railing.

"This, uh, could be a little difficult," he said, and I was relieved, thinking that maybe we wouldn't have to do it. "But that adds to the fun, doesn't it?" he grinned maniacally, and my heart sank. _Well, so much for my life. Goodbye cruel world._ The Joker then put one of his long legs over the railing, and the other one followed. He crouched down, sliding his gloved hands down the bars, and then he let his legs go off the edge and he was just dangling there in the air. I yelled, and ran over to the railing to make sure he didn't fall. "Worried about me, Beautiful?" he asked, smiling at me, and I glared back at him. He looked down, then started swinging, and then he just… let go. I heard him land on the balcony below and say, "Your turn!" I felt my legs go numb as I remembered the image of me splattered on the pavement below. I couldn't do it.

"I can't!" I cried out to him and he chuckled.

"Well, either you're going to by your own free will or I'm going to have to come up there and force you. But I can't, you see, I can't get back up the way I came down so I _guess_ I'm going to have to break into this person's room and, uh, maybe I'll even have the pleasure of killing–"

"Okay! Okay I'll do it." I didn't want to be responsible for the deaths of anyone innocent, so I did the same thing he did. One problem, though: my legs weren't nearly as long as his so it was really very difficult getting over the railing. After that I stood there too petrified to move for about three minutes, and he threatened me again. So shakily, I crouched down, and then let my legs dangle over the edge like he did.

"OH MY GOD!" I screamed, petrified.

"Just swing!" he said, laughing.

"There is no way in hell…" I protested, but I knew I would die if I didn't swing myself onto the balcony below, so I did, and he yelled for me to let go. I didn't want to, but I gave one final swing, shut my eyes, and let go. I screamed as I flew onto the balcony, and landed on it with a painful _thump_. "Ow," I complained, but he just laughed.

"Wasn't that _fun_?" he asked me, looking ecstatic.

"No…" I said, rubbing my hip, my heart pounding, adrenaline running through my veins.

"Let's do it again!" He was having way too much fun, and he yanked me up by my arm. I complained again, but he ignored me and hopped over the railing and descended to the balcony below. I soon followed, and I got better every time. By the time we had reached the balcony on the third floor, I was quite comfortable, and I actually did find it a little fun. The Joker had already descended onto the second level's balcony, and called for me to follow him. I enthusiastically obliged, and swung my legs over the railing. I did the same thing that I had every other time, and let my legs dangle over the side, but I hadn't realized that I was hanging from a place that was slick with ice. I felt my fingers begin to slip, and I screamed in absolute terror. The fall could kill me, only if I was lucky. I was high enough that there was probably about a 50/50 chance between life and death, but if I lived I'd probably be maimed for life with all the broken bones. That image in my head really would come true. I squeezed my eyes shut and I felt my fingers finally disconnect with the balcony above and I was falling – and then I wasn't. I was grabbed around my waist again as the Joker dove out to catch me, and he pulled me over the railing. And, as he was doing this, he slipped and lost his balance and we both fell back onto the floor of the balcony – me landing on top of him. We lay like that for a couple of minutes, I breathing heavily with my head buried in his chest, his arm was still around me.

"Th-thank-you," I managed to stutter. "So much."

"So it looks like you aren't so eager to die after all, are you, Girlie?" he said and I gave a sort-of half laugh.

"I guess not."

-----

We eventually got up, and _very_ carefully made our way down to the next level, and then onto the ground. I was still shaking.

"Well, I guess it would have been a little easier to take the stairs that led out the back…" he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"… What do you mean?" I asked him, each world was slowly said.

"Well, we could have taken the stairs, and then exited out the, uh, back instead of the lobby like I said we wouldn't do. I just thought this way would be fun. It was, though, wasn't it? I liked it!"

"You… you're saying… oh my," I sat down, dejected, in the middle of the sidewalk. Fortunately, it was late and nobody was out on the street except for a few cars that occasionally drove by.

"Yes, yes. Enough with the drama, you're twenty-one, not four," he said, and yanked me up by my arm again. "Besides, we've got places to go, people to see."

"Oh no, we do?" I asked, nightmares of terrified people running though my mind as the Joker chased them around with knives and clowns with guns.

"No, but we're going back to my place. You won't get away from there, my little Houdini," he said, and grabbed my hand and dragged me down the street to where I saw a van was parked. He opened the passenger door for me, and very gentleman-like, waited for me to get in and he softly closed the door. After walking around to the other side, he got in and started the engine and we drove off, away from the hotel, away from the possibility of a normal life, and towards the certainty of one filled with the madness of the maniacal Joker.


	8. Order In Chaos

**Note: New chapter finally! Thanks for reading, everyone. ^_^**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Joker, but I own the character Sky Mortimer. I also don't won the song "My Immortal". Evanescence does. **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Eight. Order In Chaos._

We didn't say anything to each other as he drove me back to the abandoned warehouse. It was silent except for the sound of the old van, so I reached to turn the radio on and "My Immortal" by Evanescence was playing. It was my favourite song, and I couldn't help but sing along to it.

_"Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me. These wounds won't seem to heal, This pain is just too real, There's just too much that time cannot erase,"_ I connected so well to those words, and I sang them loudly, forgetting that the Joker was in the car with me. I felt his eyes on me, and I turned to face him and promptly shut my mouth. He was giving me the most confused look, with his mouth slightly open and with his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "I'm sorry," I said sheepishly and slumped low in my seat. "I love this song."

"It's… nice I suppose," he said. "You, uh, you have a good voice."

"I do?" I asked him, surprised. I knew that my voice wasn't terrible, but I didn't think that it would qualify as being good.

"Yes. It's very, um, ethereal," he complimented me.

"Thank-you. I never thought my voice was good. I mean, I've always enjoyed singing, but never thought I was very talented," I replied to him.

"No one's ever told you?" he asked me.

"No… no one except for my mother," I paused. "But my mother left and my father and brother hated me. And I've never had friends."

"Ah. Neither have I." After he said that, the van descended back into silence but for the radio. Other songs came on – some I liked, some I didn't – but neither of us bothered to change the station. The Joker didn't sing along to any of the music.

We eventually reached the warehouse – a familiar yet wholly unwelcome sight for me. The florescent lights hadn't been turned on, so it was dark when we entered, and the Joker had to find the switch after he closed the door. The gigantic room was suddenly illuminated, and I shut my eyes immediately. I was afraid that there would be another scene like when I had first been in the warehouse, with the man, and the blood, and the horror…

"You can open your eyes, Beautiful. There's no one here except us," the Joker paused. "Dead or alive." So, I opened my eyes a crack, and saw that he had told me the truth. The warehouse was completely empty, but the for some bloodstains on the floor and walls. It smelled musty in the room, with an undertone of death. It disgusted me, but it was better than actually seeing a body. The Joker brushed past me, and walked to the stairs off to our left.

"Let's go," he said, so I followed him up the stairs and we went into my room. He had made two changes: there was a small table, and upon it sat a television. "I wasn't planning on letting you go out for a while just in case we had another little _situation_, so I figured you'd be bored without anything to do… so I, uh, got you a television," I barely heard what he had to say, for I was staring in sheer amazement at the one other thing he had added to my room: a bookshelf, filled with dozens of books. Adventure, fantasy, mystery, suspense, drama… and, of course, romance.

"My books!" I yelled, running over to the large bookcase and running my fingers over the spines of my friends. "I thought you'd burned them with my apartment."

"No, I got them out," the Joker replied in an obvious tone.

"I don't know how to thank you! I have no idea what I would do without them!" I said, close to tears of happiness. So many of my books, so much of my life… I heard him giggle, and then he spoke again.

"Well, there is _one _way you could repay me," he said giving me an obvious _look_. Pervert.  
"Um, I think not. I'm actually rather tired," I said and faked a yawn. "So… yeah." I looked at him with raised eyebrows, trying to hint that he could leave. He didn't. "You can leave now?" I said. He looked angry for a second and then regained his slightly amused composure once again.

"I _can_. But… I think I won't. You see," he smacked his lips, "you see, you could try to escape while I'm gone. And, since none of my team is here, it may be rather easy for you to do. I'm not going to take that chance."

"I need to get changed!" I said, aghast. He merely made a gesture with his arms and raised his eyebrows innocently. A look that basically said, _well go ahead, I'm not stopping you_. "I am _not_ changing my clothes while you're here. Take me to your room and I'll change in the bathroom. I need to brush my teeth anyway."

"Alright then, follow me Beautiful." So I did, and on the way there I spoke to him.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to call me by my real name every once and a while."

"You know, _Sky_, I'll call you what I want." And that was the end of that conversation. He was so unpredictable: one moment he'd be all smiles, a look of constant amusement on his scarred face, and the next moment he'd be abrupt and even frightening – occasionally extremely frightening. We got to his room and he placed the key in the lock, and opened the door to reveal his purple and black room. I turned to the right and entered the bathroom and turned the light on. I got my pajamas on quickly: purple satin pants that were far too long for me, and a black tank top. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, but I decided to leave my hair in the ponytail because there would only be a gigantic bump in my hair if I took it out. I emerged from the bathroom and saw the Joker sitting on the edge of his bed, looking impatient. He saw me, and grinned.

"Even beautiful without all the makeup." I rolled my eyes and quickly walked out of his room. He jumped up and easily caught up with me, even though I thought that I was walking so fast. Stupid long legs. "So eager to go to bed, Girlie? 'Cause you know I'll, uh, _I'll be joining you_…" he whispered the last part and immediately I stopped walking and regarded him furiously. He had that gleeful look on his face again.

"You will _not_ be sleeping in _my_ bed."

"Oh yes I will, and you will let me," he'd taken his knife out of his coat pocket and flipped it up in the air.

"You're so repulsive!" I yelled and ran into my room and tried to slam the sliding door shut but he stopped it easily.

"Such a child," he said, and trailed the knife softly down the side of my face, over my chin, and down my throat – not once breaking the skin, but I didn't dare move. He stopped when he got to the top of my shirt and put the knife back in his pocket. I didn't move, only stared up at his terrifying face as he towered over me. He looked down at me, an expression of amusement on his face as he reached down to touch my face with his gloved hand. "So much fear…"

"I-I'm not afraid of you," I stuttered, and he laughed hysterically.

"I can see it in your eyes, Sweetheart. You're _terrified_. You hate me, you're afraid to die. Why? What's the point of being afraid to die?" he smacked his lips and continued. "You see, I do people a favour in killing them. I'm just, as you said earlier, speeding up the process. No more of their life will be wasted, because it's over! They won't have to go through any more pain, suffering, sadness… they won't have to worry about that anymore. I'm an agent of chaos, I say, but I'm really not. My mind is _much_ more rational than most. Yes, I create chaos, but only in the minds of the irrational, which is everyone. I'm just ahead of the curve. In my world, there's order. In their world, there's chaos. Do you understand? That's why I'm an agent of chaos – I only am in their already chaotic little world. If they had minds of true chaos, like mine, then I would be an agent of order."

"It… doesn't exactly have the same ring to it," I said, and he laughed hysterically again. Once he had stopped, he spoke to me again.

"And _that_ is why I like you, Sky. You're strange, like me. Because deep down, I think that you think the same way I do. Like no one else does." I didn't respond at first. There was no way I was like him, I may have thought strangely, but I was not completely insane. I wasn't evil. I didn't find joy in other people's pain, I didn't have some sick compulsion to scare the hell out of common people, and I didn't ever want to kill anyone. I stayed silent, and he stepped away from me and swept gallantly toward my bed and threw the covers back. "Coming, Sweetheart?" he asked and I regarded him stupidly. But I knew that I'd probably regret it if I refused.

"You aren't going to…" I couldn't even voice my words, I was too embarrassed. I took a deep breath and spoke again. "Um… you aren't going to uh, take advantage of me, are you?" I asked him sheepishly and he grinned.

"Not unless you want me to, Girlie."

"No!" I yelled loudly.

"Then I won't. I wouldn't do that," he said simply, and a wave of relief washed over me. At least he wasn't _that_ evil. I grabbed a book from my cramped bookshelf and climbed into the large bed. He climbed in the other side, and asked me to read aloud.

"I don't know if you'll like it though," I said. "It's kind of girly. And romantic."

"Just read," he commanded, and I didn't argue. I flipped to the first page and began reading. After a few minutes I sneaked a look at him and saw that he was lying on his back with his hands behind his head and his eyes were closed. There was a small smile on his painted red lips. I looked back at my book, a smile upon my own lips, and read for another half of an hour before I heard him breathing evenly to let me know that he was asleep. I stopped reading, put the book beside the bed, and turned the light off. Pulling the blankets up to my chin, I snuggled deep in the covers and quickly fell asleep.

-----

The next morning I awoke to soft chuckling. I didn't want to wake up yet, so I buried my head further into my pillow and realized that the fabric that my face was pressed against was far too rough to be a pillow. I pulled back and realized that my face had been buried in the Joker's chest. In fact, my entire body was pressed up against his. I yelled and pushed backwards, and fell hard onto the floor.

"What the hell?!" I yelled as I jumped up, regarding him absolutely furiously. He simply looked amused. I noticed that a lot of his makeup and rubbed off, and much more of his face was visible.

"Look at me, _Sky_, do I look like I'm on your side of the bed?" I looked at him and realized that he was in the exact place that he had fallen asleep in. "It was _you_ who came over to _my_ side. What's wrong? Are you, uh, _lonely_, Sweetheart?" I stood still for a moment, not being able to comprehend the fact that I had latched onto the Joker of my own accord, and then I spun around on my heel and stomped toward the door and tried to yank it open. It didn't budge. "It's locked," I could hear the smirk in his voice. Angrily, I kicked the door hard and yelled out in pain.

"Ah, hell!" I could hear him laughing behind me but I didn't care. I was furious, mostly at myself. I collapsed onto the floor, feeling defeated, still clutching my throbbing foot.

"It couldn't have hurt that much, could it?" he asked me, still laughing, and that angered me even more.

"Yeah, well you try it."

"Uh, no." I heard him get up from the bed and he walked over to the door, put the key in the lock, and opened the door. "Coming?" he asked, and I glared at him. "Breakfast," he stated, so I got up and hobbled out the door as fast as I could. He caught up with me and scooped me up in his arms like a child.

"Put me down. I can walk fine by myself, you know," I protested as I struggled in his grip, but I just heard him click his tongue.

"Didn't look that way to me," he said, so I stopped squirming around and I let him carry me into a room at the end of the hall. When we got there, he dropped be very ungracefully into a chair and went to the fridge and pulled something out of the bottom of it. I realized that it was a freezer, and what he brought over to be was a container of strawberry ice cream. I looked up questioningly at him, and he looked back at me, equally confused. "What?" he asked. "Eat it."

"Ice cream? For breakfast?" I asked him and he rolled his eyes impatiently. "It's not exactly a healthy thing to have first thing in the day. And what about a spoon?" I continued. "If you really want me to eat this it might be a little difficult without a utensil of some kind…" I trailed off as he strode purposefully across the room, yanked open a drawer, grabbed a metal spoon, and hurled it at me. Fortunately, it missed me by about half an inch. "Are you insane?!" I jumped up and screamed at him. I ignored the pain that shot through my foot. He'd thrown the spoon so hard it had left a dent in the wall behind me.

"Well it didn't hit you, did it? Get over it, Princess. Just eat your damned ice cream." And with that, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. I heard him lock it and then walk away, and I sat back down in my seat and bitterly started eating the ice cream. Vaguely, I wondered to myself how long I'd be stuck in that room before he came back to let me out.


	9. Burn

**Note: Finally, the next chapter! I'm so sorry that I didn't get this up sooner, and I'm sorry that I didn't reply to everyone's comments, which I usually try to do (I hope it works when I do lol). All of my emails got deleted, which is a total pain, so I thank you all who commented and read my story, all the comments are so appreciated, as is everyone who reads the story. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter as well! ^_^ **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Joker, but Sky Mortimer © me. **

**P.S. When it is in the dream part, Sky starts referring to herself in the third person. Just wanted to say that before you read it. I thought that it might be a little confusing… **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Nine. Burn._

It turned out that he wasn't quite as interested in me as he claimed. I was left alone in that room for hours. There was a clock in there, and after ten hours of waiting I heard the lock on the door click quietly and my head snapped up to meet his smirking gaze.

"Well hello there, Beautiful. Did you miss me?" he said, cheerful once again. Apparently he'd forgiven me for the spoon incident.

"No," Out of boredom, I decided to test his anger. Of course, as nothing ever goes my way, he didn't react irrationally. Actually, he ignored my comment completely.

"You wouldn't _believe_ it Beautiful! I have the most _wonderful_ news," he said, looking ecstatic.

"Are you letting me go?" I asked hopefully.

"No. But your little, uh, boyfriend, the lovely Bruce Wayne, is doing absolutely _everything_ to get you back!" He's got the entire police force out on the streets looking for you. He went on the television to send a personal message to me _begging_ me to give you back! Isn't that brilliant?"

"He is…? Oh," I said quietly, renewed guilt burdening my already stressed mind. "Poor Bruce," I said, not caring if the Joker thought I was pathetic or not. I sat down in a chair and brought my knees up to my chin, and I heard the Joker walk up to me.

"Lighten up, Princess. He'll forget about you soon enough. Maybe we'll have some fun and trick him before that though… a decoy or something,"

"_We_?" I asked, finally looking up from the floor and glaring daggers at him.

"_I_ will have some fun then. _You_ can be your boring, dour self as usual," Giggle.

"Boring and dour?!" I burst out, jumping up from my chair and facing him. "How can you expect me to be happy? I've never been happy my entire life, and you think kidnapping me and mentally scarring me for life is going to change that? How can you get joy out of other people's pain? When they've never done anything to you?" To my horror, I realized that I was verging on tears. I continued anyway. "You're demented. I hope you die for all the horrible things you've done," I wanted to take back my words – I'd never said anything so terrible to anyone in my entire life. But it was too late, I'd said them, but he didn't seem affected by them. Simply shrugged, smiled, and muttered something under his breath that sounded like "so do I" but I couldn't be sure.

"Ah well, at least we both know that you're essentially the same as I am," he stepped closer to me until he only half of a foot away from me. "You just won't admit it," he whispered, and I was so filled with anger I couldn't stop my hand that flew up and collided with his face. The slap shocked him, and I took that chance to run. I ran faster than I ever had in my entire life, and I managed to get to the middle of the stairway before everything went black and I pitched forward down the metal steps. It was incredibly painful, and by the time I had reached the bottom my entire body was throbbing with burning pain.

"Terribly sorry, Sweetheart," his voice rang gleefully through the darkness. "Although I did enjoy that moment of fiery emotion in you, I can't just let you run away now, can I? As I've said before, you're just too much fun! Even if you are a little dour at times. But then, just as I start to lose interest in you, you go ahead and do something like _that_!" He giggled like a demented wind up doll and promptly stopped. "Are you even conscious?" he asked. I managed to grunt a reply and he giggled again. "Oh I hope that fall didn't ruin your pretty face…" and then the lights went on again.

"You have a light switch up there?" I asked, delirious from pain.

"Well, yes. You didn't think I'd only have one light switch in the entire place did you? Ha. I thought you were smarter than that, Girlie." He stopped talking when he leaned over the railing and saw me lying at the bottom of the stairs. "Oh you did have a nasty fall, didn't you?" I managed to lift my head and I glared daggers at his ecstatic face. He let go of the railing and went running down the stairs and jumped over me at the bottom. Kneeling down, he peered into my face, and said gleefully, "No damage, that's good."

"No damage?" I asked, incredulous. "I can hardly move!" Furious, I tried to get up but whimpered and lied back down. Had I broken my back? It turned out that no, I did not, because at that moment the Joker roughly lifted me up off the floor and cradled in my arms. He ignored my cry of pain, and trudged back up the stairs with me cradled in his arms like a child. He swiftly carried me into his room and laid me down on his bed. "What's wrong with my room?" I asked him, not exactly comfortable lying in his bed, especially with him in the room with me.

"My bed's more comfortable. You'll be in less, uh, pain, if you stay in here," he replied.

"Since when exactly did you like making things less painful for others?" I said cynically. He raised his eyebrows and leaned his face down close to mine, his black eyes bored into mine.

"Would you like to be in more pain, Princess? Because that can certainly be arranged." I gulped and mumbled a small 'no' and carefully turned over so that my back was turned to him. The pain was already starting to subside, and was becoming more of a painful ache than anything. I heard him chuckle and then he walked out of the room and I heard the door close behind him. After a little while my eyelids began to become heavier, and I felt my eyes close as I descended into the comfort of a deep sleep.

-----

_I found myself in a familiar place – my former home to be exact. It was much the same, with my father raising his hand against my mother, and my brother watching television in our living room. But it was different – everything was muted. I could see my father's mouth moving, spitting out cruelty to my cowering mother. I could see my mother, crying, screaming at him. I could see the cartoon on the television that my brother was watching. But everything was silent; it was as if I had pressed the mute button on my entire family, like I had always wanted to. _

_I soon realized that I could see myself. I was watching myself in the dream, and I too, like the rest of my family, was silent. I was dressed strangely, and with a jolt I realized that I was dreaming about the night my mother left. My twelve-year-old self was creeping around, attempting to be invisible, and I saw the fear in her eyes when she saw my brother sitting by the television. He wasn't there in real life I knew, because he had cornered me in the park earlier that night, but dreams liked to change things, and make the impossible seem logical. I saw young me make her way to her bedroom and close the door quietly, and I decided to follow after a few minutes more of watching the rest of my dysfunctional family. I walked down the short hallway, opened the door to my old room, and I saw my young self, sitting on the bed, staring at me with ghost-like eyes. I stared back, and realized again that this was changed. When the real me had entered my room that night, I knew that I immediately got ready for bed and fell asleep within minutes. _

_"Why did you come back?" The ghostly girl that was me asked sadly. "Why would you want to?"_

_"I didn't want to," I replied. "This is only a dream. You aren't really me."_

_"Oh really?" She smirked. "Are you sure about that?" _

_"Of course," I said, puzzled. "If you were me, you'd be asleep right now. You'd be happy, thinking that you and mum were going away together–"_

_"I know that she'd never take me with her, she's too much of a coward. She'll just leave me here to rot, pretending that she cared. You did know that. In the back of your mind, this is what you thought when you were me, but you decided to let it be taken over by a weaker emotion. You wanted to believe that she would come and take you with her, but you knew, deep down, that she was pathetic. That she was the truly evil one, to leave you with him. To let him hurt you, to run away so that she could forget about him, her son, her daughter that would suffer for her cowardice…." She paused, looked down at the ground for a moment, and then tilted her head back up, looking directly into my eyes. "I _am_ you, but I'm the stronger part of you. You need to free me, and not be so afraid… free me, free yourself…"_

-----

I woke with a start, and sat bolt upright, causing pain to shoot through my injured body. After the pain dulled a little, I realized that the room was pitch dark but for a sliver of ghostly moonlight that illuminated part of the room. I yelled when I saw that the Joker was standing in that glowing light. His dark eyes looked at me like I was a sort of scientific specimen, and I dared to look back at him with the same glowering intensity.

"Did you have a nice sleep, Princess?" he asked me, unusually quietly. I remembered my odd dream, and decided that it would be best not to reply. The sleep was much needed, but it was disturbing. When I didn't answer him, the Joker spoke again. "You were rather restless. You were even crying."

"… I was?" I didn't remember crying in the dream. Maybe he was making it up. But I reached up to touch my face and realized that tears were, indeed, falling from my eyes. I was about to speak, but he spoke again, in the same quiet tone.

"Yes. You kept saying 'you're not me, I'm not like you'. Tell me Sky, were you talking to me in your dream?" He looked amused at this, and I glared at him.

"No I wasn't… but I'm not like you. Why can't you see that?" I replied to him, wishing that could sit up to face him on a more equal level, wishing that I wasn't lying down in front of him, feeling so vulnerable. He chuckled.

"Oh, but you are…" he said, and sauntered over to the bed and lied on his side, propping himself up on one elbow, facing me and smiling. He reached out one hand to brush my hair back from my face. "I'm so glad that your pretty face didn't get hurt in your little, uh, fall, Sweetheart."

"_Little_ fall?" I asked, incredulous. "Don't you realize that I could have died?"

"Yes," he paused to brush his own hair back. "But you didn't, did you? In an accident that some would have died in, you will recover from in merely days. Not even a bone was broken…"

"I wouldn't exactly call it an accident," I retorted, and he laughed and lied on his back, his greenish hair falling back from his face. He looked so morbidly joyful he was like a ghoulish nightmare. But my life was one big nightmare, and for some reason I was not scared of him at that moment. He'd kidnapped me – twice – he'd threatened my life, he had caused me to fall down a flight of metal stairs and laughed at my pain, laughed at the death of others as if life itself was a joke, and yet right then I could not fear him, as if the emotion had been jolted out of my mind with the fall. I forced myself to turn onto my side, ignoring the pain, and I propped myself on my elbow like he had. The Joker stopped laughing and flipped over to mirror my position. We studied each other's faces for a few moments without saying anything, but I broke the silence. "Why do you find me so interesting?"

"Because you have so many different aspects to your personality," he replied without hesitation. "You can be so afraid sometimes, you are frequently, uh, _unintentionally_ amusing, and every now and then, so very rarely, there is a spontaneous anger that bursts forth from you like a burning flame. And that is why I know that you're like me. You have hatred inside you, and you, like me, want to watch the world _burn_. To make it feel how powerful you know you are. To make it feel the chaos that reigns your being," he finished, without taking his onyx eyes from my blue ones. I said nothing for a while, not admitting to connecting with his words, not wanting him to realize that he was right, that there was a horrible anger that constantly thrived inside of me that I tried to suppress every day like a building scream threatening to burst out of me.

"You…" I stopped. I wanted to say that he was right. That I was wrong and that I connected better with him than I ever had with anyone, but I couldn't. It would go against what I had struggled to become my entire life. I always wanted to be normal, a kind person, with calamity in her mind instead of the chaos that he spoke of. "You…" I said again. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, as if encouraging me to admit his accusation of my being evil, being like him. "… are wrong." I finally said, and I turned over, once again ignoring the pain that ripped through my body like wildfire, and I turned my back to him. I heard him giggle softly – I was relieved for some reason that I hadn't upset him – and he spoke once more, his words sending ice through my veins.

"For now, Princess. But only for now. Soon, you'll learn. You'll know."


	10. Hurt

**Note: Wow, I am so sorry that I haven't updated in such a ridiculously long time. I've been very busy, but I managed to get this chapter done. **

**Thank-you so much for reading, everyone. ^_^ I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker. DC Comics does, I believe. I do not own the clown minions; they would belong to the Joker. However I do own Sky Mortimer, as I made her up. **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Ten. Hurt._

The Joker left the room, and I sat up on his bed for at least half-an-hour with thoughts running through my mind at a constant speed. Was I really like him? I knew that I was nowhere near as evil as he was, but I was able to admit to myself that I could relate to him. That I could, though I had denied it at first, understand him more than I had ever been able to understand anyone else. And I knew that he, too, understood me better than anyone. I closed my eyes as I remembered the way his ungloved hand brushed the side of my face, and how his cold, onyx eyes seemed to melt into mine as we stared into each other's faces without breaking our gaze. I snapped myself out of my daydream, silently chiding myself for thinking thoughts such as those, and I slowly lied down again on his soft mattress. I wanted the pain to subside, but my wishes were forgotten as the door opened again and the Joker stepped gallantly through. I felt my heart lurch – a new and (especially) unwanted pain in my body. I decided that I had hit my head during the fall, and that was why I was feeling some sort of sick attraction to the makeup-ed mess of a man.

"Hello there," he said, a sadistic smile upon his face. "Can't sleep?"

"Is it really that much of a surprise to you?" I asked obnoxiously, tearing my eyes from his.

"I suppose not, Princess. I brought you some sleeping pills, if you would like–"

"Do you truly think that I would take pills that _you_ of all people gave to me? You really are insane. And I am not. Not insane. At all. Not like you, whether you choose to accept it or not," I realized that frantically repeating myself like that really would make me really seem insane, so I shut my mouth and faced away from him again, no different than a pouting child. He chuckled, amused at this, and came and sat down behind me.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked me, and I was about to ask him what he meant when I remembered that nearly my entire body was in fiery pain.

"Everywhere," I muttered.

"Well I can't help that," he replied, shaking his head at me like I was a silly child. "Where does it hurt the most?" I thought for a moment, and decided that it was my back that hurt more than the rest of my body.

"Back," I said, and he nodded.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, and got up to stride out of the room. A few moments later he returned with a cloth. "Lie on your stomach," he commanded, and I asked him why. He held his hand with the cloth up in the air. "Ice," he said. I did as he said, and I slowly turned myself over to lie face down on his mattress. It worried me then that I couldn't see what he was doing, and my heart beat faster as I felt him sit beside me. Then without warning, I felt his hand begin to lift up my shirt.

"What do you think you're doing?!" I yelled at him, and turned over again, pains shooting through my battered body like bullets. He grinned.

"I have _ice_, Princess, it will numb the pain, I assure you. And it will be very inconvenient if you got your nice shirt all wet now wouldn't it?" I glared at him, and then decided that I didn't like him looming above me while I was lying on his bed, facing up at him. I turned back over, more slowly again, and let him, though my mind was screaming at me not to, lift up my top. When I felt the cold touch my back, I gasped in pain, and he shh-d me in a soothing way, and I felt his other hand on my back. It was nearly as cold as the ice was, but it soon warmed up after resting on my skin.

"Did you know that I would fall when you shut the lights off?" I asked him, hoping that he would say no, but knowing somehow that it couldn't be that simple.

"No," he replied, surprising me, and then disappointing me all over again when he resumed speaking. "But I thought you would. It was rather entertaining, though, don't you think? It certainly added some excitement to _my_ day."

"You're sick," I quietly muttered under my breath. Anger was renewed in me, and it flowed in my veins and made my blood boil despite the ice that was pressed against my skin. "I hate you," I pointlessly said louder. I hoped it would bring to the surface some anger in him, just to get the constant amusement he seemed to find in me out of the way and he could act more like his twisted and quick-to-anger self. I wanted to hate him, and though I said I did, and tried to convince myself that I did, I knew it wasn't true. And that made me hate myself all the more.

He didn't get mad.

"Ha. You wish you did, girlie."

Oh yes, I did.

"What would you have done if I died?" I asked him before I could stop myself. He was silent for a couple of moments, and then replied.

"I _probably_ would have picked up your lovely little body, and just for lots of _fun_ – and just to see his reaction – hanged it outside of Bruce Wayne's penthouse window," he giggled as I felt my eyes fill with tears. "What a _beautiful_ sight to see! I know _I'd_ be ecstatic if you were the view _I_ saw out of my window, Darling."

"You mean…" I stopped when my voice cracked, betraying my emotion. "You wouldn't care that I was dead? You wouldn't be upset at all?" I resumed, despite my hoarse voice and watering eyes. He thought for a few seconds more, and spoke.

"Nope. I _might_ miss your pretty face, and your little, uh, shenanigans that happen every so often that are so much fun, but you, my dear, are quite expendable," he paused to clear his throat. "I must admit that I do like you quite a bit more than any other hostage I've ever had, but that really isn't saying very much, is it?" He stopped talking and then abruptly flipped me onto my back, causing me to cry out in pain. He ignored it and leaned down so close to me I could feel his breath on my lips as he whispered slyly to me. "But as you very well know, I find that you're quite similar to me, and that, Sweetheart, I am quite happy with… for the time being, anyway." And then without warning, he planted a kiss on my bruised cheek and then got up from the bed and swept from the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and fears.

-----

The next day I felt better and worse. My muscles ached terribly, but I didn't feel as broken as I had the night before. I slowly propped myself on my elbows and looked about the Joker's room. After our conversation, he hadn't come back to visit me at all the day before except to bring me meals, which were so disgusting I hadn't eaten them anyway.

I sat like that for a while longer, then lied back down on the bed again, bored and wondering how long I had been in the Joker's room for. I looked for a clock, and I was surprised (and slightly annoyed) when I couldn't find one. Time was irrelevant where I was, but I suddenly wanted to know. There was only one window in the room, and it had bars, boards, and a purple curtain pulled over it. Besides, it was small and high up, like a basement window, though it wasn't one. Artificial light filtered in from under the door, but that gave me no indication of what time it was. I assumed that it was dark out though, because during the day the factory lights weren't usually turned on.

Finally, after becoming fed up with lying in the bed bored out of my mind with nothing to think about but what time it was, I got out of the bed. A shock went through my system when my feet touched the cold floor, but I persevered and pushed myself out and toward the door. I grinned when I felt my hand on the door and was about to pull it open when I heard voices outside the door. Curious, I leaned one ear against the door and close my eyes to listen.

"Boss, where do you want all this stuff?" I heard a male voice ask.

"Down the hall," The Joker said, sounding exasperated like he'd already gone over it with his moronic minion. "And set it up so it's ready when I get there. I don't want to waste any time. Oh and make sure there's a chair. She should have a chair to sit on."

"Yes, Sir." The minion clown said, and I heard his footsteps begin and then fade as they moved further away from the door. Panicked, I realized that if the Joker opened the door he would realize that I was listening to his conversation so, as quickly as I could, I retreated back to the bed. I lied down and pulled the covers up to my face and shut my eyes, and not seconds later the Joker glided into the room like a morbid sort of prince dressed in a purple suit. I heard him walk over to the bed and bend down close to my face.

"Wakey, wakey, Sweetheart," He whispered and I could feel his lips brushing my ear. "It's time to get up." He giggled. "We have a little game to play."


	11. Wonder

**Note: I'm finally back after months of not writing. This chapter is short, but I have some ideas for the next few chapters so the gap between this and uploading a new part won't be as long as this last one. Hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading. ^_^ **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Eleven. Wonder._

I turned over and stared into his penetrating eyes. He smiled mockingly at me, then grabbed my hand. I tried to pull away but he dragged me off the bed and I landed painfully on the ground with a loud thump.

"What do you want with me now?" I said, close to tears, trying not to show the pain I was feeling on my face.

"Oh, so _many_ things, Sweetheart." He grinned at me maliciously, and then spoke again. "But right now, as I said, we have a little game to play… with our friend Brucey."

"Bruce?" I stopped struggling for a brief moment and looked at him. "Bruce is here?"

"Oh my no, Dearie. But stop asking questions! You'll ruin the fun," he said; he was more insane than I'd ever seen him. He was _ecstatic_, and it was terrifying.

"Stop!" I yelled as I tried to break free of his iron grip as he dragged me out the door. "I won't do anything to hurt him."

"You won't," the Joker stopped suddenly, "but I will." And with that, he slapped me hard in the face. I couldn't hold the cry of pain back as it flew from my mouth, and I tried to hit him back but he caught my arm with his hand and twisted it back. With his free hand, he hit me again, this time drawing blood from my lip. My face burned and my eyes were watering with pain, but still he kept hurting me. He kicked me in the ribs, pulled my hair, and hit me again and again. Eventually, I just gave up and waited for it to end, while I cried pathetically. I'd even ceased begging him to stop.

"Good girl," he said when he was finished, and then without warning, he kissed me on the mouth, stealing the blood from my lips. I merely sat there, unable to move, and waited for him to stop. He did, and then grinned excitedly at me. "Let's go, Princess. There's fun to be had and games to be played."

-----

Because I was in far too much pain to walk, the Joker had to carry me. It was a rough ride, but thankfully it only lasted for about thirty seconds as he brought me to a room down the hall. The room, strangely, was empty but for two things: A chair, and a video camera. The walls were a dark, olive green, and the floor was made of wooden boards. There were no windows: only a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

The Joker sat me down in the chair, and then walked the other way toward the video camera. He picked it up and then pressed a button to turn it on. After he'd done this, he smiled again and said "ready?" I shook my head but he proceeded to begin recording anyway.

"So, Sky, how are you today?" I looked incredulously at him and called him a rude name. "Uh oh, news station, you're going to have to cut that out!" he said, and laughed. "Such a foul mouth for such a pretty girl. I do believe those bruises are most becoming on you."

"Go to hell." I spat at him, and I could feel more blood run from my mouth and drip onto my chin.

"Oh dear, that's not a very nice thing to say. I won't be so nice to you anymore if you keep saying things like that!" he walked closer to me, silent for a few moments. "Do you miss Bruce, Sky?"

"Don't you dare hurt him, you sick bastard," I sobbed.

"Oh my! Do you see what your pretty little doll has become, Bruce Wayne? Do you see how much she's changed because of me? Oh, she will die here… if you don't decide to come to her." I shook my head as the Joker spoke in a terrifying, cryptic tone. "Come to number 27, 32nd street, and she might still be alive…" I suddenly realized that what he had just said wasn't the address of this building. He was planning something…

"No, don't!" I broke out. "Don't listen to him! He's ly–" But the Joker slapped me again in front of the camera and then angled it toward his face.

"Better hurry, Brucey. Come alone, on Thursday at 5 o'clock pm. Otherwise, it might be too late." As he spoke, I cried, probably making it sound worse. But I was crying for Bruce, who didn't deserve to die because of me. And then the Joker shut the camera off and walked out of the room without another word.

-----

I sat in the room for hours, and probably fell asleep a couple times. I could have gotten up and left, but I was afraid to. So I just stayed. Alone, wondering why the Joker had left me so suddenly. I wondered if he was mad at me, but I didn't know why he would be. I also wondered why I even cared. There was something seriously wrong with me.

-----

I must have fallen asleep again, because when I opened my eyes the Joker was standing in front of me, staring at my face intently. I stared back at him, and for several minutes we didn't speak… we barely blinked. And then he walked toward me and raised his hands and I horribly thought he was going to strike me again. Instead, however, he bent down, picked me up, and carried me out of the room. He was surprisingly cautious and gentle, and he carried me into his bathroom.

"Wash off your blood," he instructed and then shut the door as he walked out. I was still in pain, so I moved slowly as I peeled off my clothes. I felt around my ribcage and was surprised not to feel any swelling. It had probably gone down over the hours.

My face, however, was not so lucky. I had a bruise on one cheek, my mouth was surrounded with dried blood, and my black makeup was in streaks down my face. I looked like the monster from a horror movie. I pried my eyes away from the mirror and finally stepped into the shower, gasping as cold water hit my skin. I quickly turned the dial to hot, and spent 20 minutes in there, most of the time just looking at the wall and letting the water pour over my head and down my body. When I got out I wrapped myself in a purple towel and opened the door, expecting to see the Joker but instead finding just his empty room.

"Hello?" I called quietly. No one answered, so I proceeded through his room and out into the hall. Still, no one was in sight. Had he left? Had he gone to wreak havoc with his clown freaks? I walked into my room and shut the heavy door.

I had on only my undergarments when the door was thrown open and the Joker was standing in the doorway. I screamed out of fright and grabbed a few blankets from my bed and frantically covered myself with them while the Joker strode toward me. I squeezed my eyes shut and flinched away from him as I prepared for the worst when he tore the blankets off of me and threw me painfully on the bed.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, I opened my eyes a little and squinted at him, realizing that something was in his hand. Ice. He pressed it to my ribs, and pressed more to my face. It was painful at first, but soon I became numb. Slowly, he ran the ice all over my ribs, and down lower on my torso. I gasped at the sudden coldness, but it felt… incredible. So calming, and the Joker trailed his fingers down over the stream of water. He slowly moved the ice cube up and down my torso until nothing was left. Only his fingers. Still, he kept doing it until his hand went up further, to the bottom of my bra. He paused for a moment, and then, to my surprise, he traced his fingers over my chest, leaving small traces of water and makeup. Tracing his hand up my neck, up my chin, and over my lips. And then… he changed his course of direction as his hand went down, down, over my chin, past my bra, past my ribs, down over my stomach, and stopped at the top of my pants. He trailed his fingers along the top, slowly, oh, so agonizingly slowly until he reached my right hip. And then back, only this time he stopped in the middle, just where the clasp on the pants were. Both of us held our breath for several seconds as he paused... and then pulled his hand back and turned away from me.

I was almost disappointed, but mentally shook myself. I really was insane. He was a madman, and I hated him. I had to. I really did hate him. So I stared daggers at his back as he faced my wall.

Neither of us spoke for what seemed like forever. And then I asked, "What day is it?"

"Sunday," he replied.

Good. Five days to escape...

However, in the back of my mind I couldn't erase the feeling that I didn't want to.


	12. Realization

**Note: I don't own the Joker. I do own Sky.  
I really hope you guys like this! I'm sorry that I update this so rarely. It's terrible.  
But anyway, enjoy. I hope you all had wonderful holidays and a happy New Year to everyone! **

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Twelve. Realization._

I sat in my room for ages after he left. Not able to fall asleep, not able to do anything but stare at the ceiling… all the while wondering what the Joker was doing, and wondering what he was planning to do with Bruce. I missed Bruce terribly, but I found that even after hours of the Joker not bothering [or abusing] me, I missed him too. I tried to convince myself that I was just lonely, not _actually_ missing the sadistic bastard… and spent far too long on that.

I was relieved when, for some odd reason, my eye started to sting painfully in the corner so it could distract me from my thoughts. It was an eyelash, I noticed. I decided to let it stay there until my eye started to tear up so I rubbed at it until it was eventually gone. And then I lied back down on my bed for about another half an hour.

_So. Damn. Bored. _It had been hours since the Joker had abruptly left me, cold and wet after trailing an ice cube oddly sensually across my body, and then stormed out of the room. Yes, stormed out would be the correct wording. We had both been on my bed – me lying down feeling rather exposed in front of him while he sat on the edge staring intently at me – for about 10 minutes. And then, without warning he jumped up from the bed and _stormed_ out of my room, jolting me out of a somewhat peaceful state. So, I was left alone with nothing but trails of water and makeup smeared all over my pain-riveted face and body.

Eventually, I fell asleep.

Tossing.

Turning.

Dreaming.

_Nightmaring._

And waking up feeling thoroughly unrested before falling back asleep only to have the cycle repeat again.

_In my dreams, the same thing kept happening. I was in my room, sitting on the bed and there were too many purple blankets and pillows. About a dozen of each. It was so comfortable. I lied back in the bed, smiling, even though I knew that the Joker would come in soon to probably hurt me again. But I felt peaceful. I felt so strangely happy, I laughed for the first time in so long. I heard footsteps echoing down the hall and I wanted to yell at the Joker to go away, but I knew that I couldn't. I was too scared. _

_ And then, instead of the Joker, Bruce walked into my room and sat down beside me. He held me tight and told me that everything was ok. Tears poured down my face, and Bruce kept holding me for what seemed like a perfect forever. And then, he pulled away and said that no one would ever hurt me again. That I was safe forever. I smiled and I was about to take his hand when I noticed something. _

_ "Why is there makeup on your hands?" I asked him. _

_  
"What?" he replied, looking confused. _

_  
"There is makeup… on your hands. Look." He lifted up his hands for me to see. There was nothing on them. _

_  
"You poor thing…" he said comfortingly. "He's scarred you. He's not here anymore… it's just me, Sky. It'll be ok. Everything will be fine. He won't scare you ever again." He leaned in again, but instead of putting my head on his shoulder like before he leaned in and placed his lips on mine. They were soft and cool. I closed my eyes and deepened the kiss, pulling him closer to me. I ran my hand through his hair… and felt long curls. I gasped and pulled back, only to be facing the Joker. _

_  
"Where did Bruce go?" I demanded, scared. The Joker smiled. "He said that everything was ok… that you would leave me alone… that you wouldn't be near me anymore…" I was terrified. I wanted him gone. The Joker leaned in close to me. _

_  
"Oh Sweetheart," he said in a malicious whisper. "You'll never be rid of me." _

I woke with a start, then fell back asleep, each time the dream varying just a little. This must have continued for about three hours before I heard metal slam against metal and footsteps echoing, getting closer to me. Still delirious from sleep, my eyes were still closed and I couldn't decide whether I was experiencing reality or dream.

"_Wakey wakey, Sweetheart_," a voice whispered in my ear, and I knew that not even in my dreams could I have imagined a voice drip with evil as pure as that when saying something so seemingly innocent. I opened my bleary, bruised eyes and stared at the smeared face before me, grinning like I was his favourite person in the world. It didn't take my fully-awake state to realize that when he was this happy, it usually meant trouble for me.

"Please…" I mumbled pathetically. "Please don't hurt me…" I squeezed my eyes shut when I heard him chuckle softly.

"Oh no," he whispered. "I won't hurt you again… right now." I opened my eyes again, startled to see that his face was inches away from mine. He was studying my face intently, his eyes roaming all over it, taking in my chapped lips, my little nose, and my red eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep. "Such a beautiful little girl," he said quietly. "Like a delicate little doll."

"So you think bruises all over me is beautiful, huh?" I asked. Sure, I used to have a half-decent face. But now I looked like I'd barely survived a train wreck.

"Oh on you they are, Sweetheart." Another chuckle. "Let's, uh, get you out of bed, shall we? Get you into some decent clothes." With horror, I realized that I had fallen asleep without putting any clothes on. I was still just in my bra and panties. Purple, of course. With black trim. They were cute. There was even a little button clasp at the top of the panties, black with purple polka dots. "Or maybe," the Joker said, as though he had been reading my mind. "We'll just let you stay in the outfit you're in now." I blushed as I felt his eyes roam all over my body.

"No… I want to put my clothes on," I spoke cautiously, quietly. And with a sudden jolt, I realized that I was terrified of him. I'd never given much thought about it, oddly. But almost every word I spoke was full of caution. I was always afraid of him. Always afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of dying. Rarely did I speak my mind. I felt absolutely… _pathetic_. It had to end. This little game of fear and hate. It needed to stop. Right then, and right there. I got up and walked to my closet.

"No Princess," the lecherous man spoke. "I like your outfit that you're wearing _now_. Keep it on." _No._

"No." There was a noise of surprise. Clearly, the Joker wasn't used to me standing up to him anymore. When he first found me, he liked it. _Let's see how he likes it now_,I thought to myself.

"No?" A laugh. "_No_? My, my! You _are_ getting confidant, aren't you?" I ignored him and started going through clothes that I wanted to choose from. Some sick part of me wanted him to get mad. I wanted him to hurt me again and again. "And I was beginning to think you'd lost your spark! How _wrong_ I was." I could hear the smile in his voice. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to make him mad.

When I heard him get up from the bed, I froze, thinking I'd won. But he came up behind me and, shockingly, wrapped his arms around me. His head bent down and his lips were at my ear. "My feisty little doll's back, then, is she?" His breath was hot. It made me sick. And then, something within me snapped. I was suddenly furious. I was tired of the endearing little names. I was tired of the fake kindness. I was tired of the mood swings. I was tired of being his toy. I was so, so tired. So I turned around to face him, the front of my body pressed up against his.

"I am _not_ your fucking doll!" I shoved him in the chest, surprised that I caused him to stumble backward. "Why?" I yelled, "Why did you take me? Why are you using _me_ to get to Bruce Wayne? Why do you do everything you can to hurt me?" At this point I was screaming. I'd never felt so angry in my life. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you? Why do you get some sick pleasure out of my pain? I'm tired of it!" I liked the look I saw on his face. It wasn't the smug little look of amusement anymore. It was just… blank. " You know what? Just hit me. Hit me until I bleed. Bleed me fucking dry. I just. Don't. Care." I felt electric. I felt like I could do anything while the Joker just stood across from me, for the first time since I'd met him absolutely speechless.

And then slowly, he turned around, and walked out of the room.


	13. Break

*****PLEASE READ THIS!*** **

**Note : Hello everyone! I know, it's been a terribly long time since I last put up a chapter. I'm so sorry! I hope you like this one. I think I might change this story from being rated "teen" to "mature". There may be some situations between Sky and the Joker that some people would feel uncomfortable reading. It won't be like smut, but there will be things going on, just not in explicit detail. There will be some detail though. =P That's why it will be rated mature. Haha, so I hope you guys don't mind it!**

Disclaimer : I own Sky. Please don't steal her from me. However, I don't own the Joker. I stole him. =]

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Thirteen. Break._

He quietly shut the door behind him, leaving me in silence. My ears were buzzing. It was like I could hear numbness. I was breathing heavily like I'd just run a mile. I was shaking… and then I realized that I was crying. There were tears pouring down my face like they couldn't stop and I collapsed on the floor, shaking, crying, holding my arms around myself like I was afraid I was going to break. I was afraid of that. I was scared that I was going shatter into a million tiny pieces and no one would ever pick them up. I cried for hours. Occasionally going into trance-like states before I felt the tears start rolling again.

Eventually I picked myself up off the floor. I dragged myself to the entrance of my room and slowly hauled the heavy door open, ignoring the jeers and whistles from the Joker's henchmen who apparently liked seeing me in my undergarments. Lazily I walked back to my closet and threw on a black skirt and a black top. I started to walk out my door when I realized that I really didn't know where to go. I stood there for a couple minutes and then walked down to the Joker's bathroom, realizing that I was still covered in his makeup.

"I need a shower," I spoke in a monotone voice when he answered the door. He simply nodded and let me in. He'd just had a shower from the looks of it too. His hair was wet and he wasn't wearing any makeup. He even had a pleasant smell to him. It gave me a jolt to see him without his seemingly ever-present mask of makeup though. He looked so different… he looked… _human_. And then, I noticed his eyes were full of sadness. It confused me. He was insane; he wasn't supposed to feel emotion, especially if this sadness was caused by me. It didn't make sense.

I proceeded to the bathroom, where I shut and locked the door. Slowly I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower, where I had hot water already running. The makeup washed off easily, pouring in black, white, and red rivulets down my body.

I wondered why the Joker looked so sad. It wasn't possible. I'd never seen such emotion in his eyes. Instead of looking just like empty black holes, devoid of anything human, they were like swirling ink. I could even detect some colour. They were glassy. Had he been crying? And suddenly, I couldn't help the tears that started flowing again. I leaned against the wall and sobbed hysterically. I was bewildered. Completely, utterly, perplexed. I didn't care about him. _I don't care, I don't care, I hope he fucking dies, I don't care… I don't, Oh God I don't…_ I had to convince myself of it. He was insane. He was totally mad, despicable, _evil_. He killed for no reason. He liked doing it. He tortured innocent people because, well, just because. He laughed as he beat me and watched me cry. He toyed with me, with Bruce, with everyone. He instilled fear in the public like no other. Whatever humanity he'd once had, if it did in fact exist, was gone. Probably a long time ago.

So why did I feel such a strange connection to him? Was I developing some sick strange Stockholm syndrome? No. It was more than that. I felt connected to him like I never had with any other man I'd known. I hated to admit, but it was true. And he would never know, because I would never tell him. I stopped myself from crying again and washed my hair and body, then stepped out of the shower. After wrapping myself in fluffy purple towels I realized that I hadn't brought a clean change of clothes. I opened up the door anyway, and spoke to the Joker, who was sitting on his bed looking infuriatingly and pathetically lost.

"Umm, I have no clothes. Will you make sure your men go somewhere they can't see me?" I could have asked for him to get me some clothes but I really didn't want him going through my undergarments. He just nodded though, and stepped out into the hallway.

"All of you leave. Now," he said loudly. Even his voice sounded different. Less odd, and lower. I heard noises of surprise from the men, but I heard them all shuffle out within about a minute and a half.

"Thank-you," I said quitely, and then made my way to my room, closing his door behind me.

The thing about realizing something is, if it is as monumental and terrifying as mine, it can anger you. And that's exactly what mine did. Because of my confusion, I was angry. I was angry at myself, at him, at everything. I was seriously a screwed up person. He wasn't supposed to react the way he did. He was supposed to be angry. He was supposed to act the way he always did. But instead, he reacted differently and I realized something I wouldn't have done if he'd just hit me and hurt me instead. I would have just hated him more.

But, as I found out, hate and love are closely linked. It was like balancing on a tightrope. I couldn't choose which side to fall off of. And if I made it to the other side, refusing to fall, I would drive myself insane. I had to choose. Both were so hard, so easy, making the decision so difficult and so impossible. Hating him would be as easy as speaking. I already hated him. But there would always be an underlying feeling, begging to push its way to the surface. And to love him, that would be as easy as breathing. But I would never trust him. I would never be able to forgive any hit, any betrayal. And the feeling would never, ever, be returned. A man like that was incapable of love. It would eventually drive me as absolutely insane as he was.

I gave a scream of frustration, pulling angrily at my hair and then hitting the wall repeatedly. I grabbed pillows and threw them at the wall, only having them fall back onto the bed anyway. I tore all my clothes off the hangers. I threw hangers at the walls, and then stepped on one, tearing a hole in my dragging pajama pants. Unfortunately it also tore a scrape into the bottom of my foot and I yelled out of surprised pain.

"Fuck!" I threw the hanger at the door which had suddenly just opened, narrowly missing the Joker's face. I shrieked. "Why are you here?" And instead of answering he just took three long strides to get to me grabbed me and pinned me up against the wall. "Are you gonna hit me?" I asked, laughing, but my laugh was cut short when his lips suddenly pressed against mine. It was different than the first time, so much different. There wasn't insanity to it, there was no violence, no urgency. It was soft and gentle and without thinking I melted into it. I realized that it was the only thing he had done that entire time that hadn't scared me. I didn't know why I wasn't scared, I just didn't feel the need to be. The kiss didn't last nearly as long as I wanted it to and he pulled away, but he stayed close enough for me to still feel his breath on my lips. And before I knew it, he kissed me again, and then again, and again. I began to lose track, but each kiss was just as soft and kind as the last.

And then, without any warning, he stopped.

"I'm…" He started to say, and paused. I was so sure he was going to apologize, but he then walked out of the room as unexpectedly as he'd walked in. I waited for a few moments to see if he'd come back, but I heard his door slam shut and I knew I that he wouldn't return. I also knew I should have been glad of that, but I wasn't. And I definitely wasn't happy with myself.

I looked about my room desolately and then sat down heavily onto the floor. The _filthy _floor. Then I realized with horror that my entire room was dirty. I'd left a whole bunch of clothes all over my floor, my blankets were on the floor, and there was dust everywhere. So, deciding to forget about the Joker for a bit of time, I cleaned my room. Eventually I'd hung up all of my clothes, I'd made my bed, and I left for a bit of time to go and get a mop, and I swished it over the floorboards and dusted my bed posts and my dresser and bookshelf until everything was spotless. I'd realized that by the end of it all I'd gone about an hour and a half without the Joker even crossing my mind and I was pleased with myself.

"Now," I said out loud. "That was easy. Half an hour without _you_ even creeping into my head." I smiled proudly to myself, even though I felt a little bit crazy talking to the Joker when he wasn't even there. That was all I needed, a subconscious Joker to talk to.

"Who?" Came a voice from behind me. I gasped and turned around to see the Joker standing in my doorway. I stood there for a moment, gaping at him until he spoke again. "Who creeps into your head, Sky?" Again I didn't answer him. It always unnerved me when he spoke my actual name. It made me think I was something more to him than a toy.

"N-no one," I stammered, terribly embarrassed. He knew it was him. I could see it in his eyes, and I knew that he had gotten exactly what he wanted. He thought he had complete control of me. He wanted to get into my mind, he wanted me to lose my mind, just like he lost his. What if I had lost my mind?

I knew that he should have left my room. He still stood there, however. I wanted to ask him to leave, but I was suddenly afraid to. For more than one reason, I found. I was still scared of him, of course. I was scared of what he would do if I told him to get out of my room.

But much more than that, I was scared of him leaving. I didn't want him to, and really, that scared me more than anything else.


	14. Heart

**Note : Alright, new chapter, after over a year. I am so, very sorry. I know that most of you will have probably totally given up by now haha. But I will finish it! I promise. :)**

Basic Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker, but I do own Sky. :)

New Disclaimer: The line near the end, is from the novel _How To Kill A Rock Star_ by Tiffanie DeBartolo. I highly recommend it.

Enjoy! 

**To Heal Your Scars**

_Chapter Fourteen. Heart._

We stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. In reality it was probably only a few moments, but my mind was racing wildly and I couldn't decide what to do about the Joker being in my room, staring at me the way he was. I couldn't tell the emotions he was feeling, or if he was feeling any at all, but the fact that I couldn't tell what was going through his mind was driving me mad.

"What are you doing?" I finally spoke, though my voice was quieter than I had intended it to be.

"I'm standing in your doorway, Sky."

"I meant…" I paused. "I meant what are you doing, as in why are you standing in my doorway? Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're my gorgeous little doll," his words had sounded like he always had, but his voice – it was as quiet as mine.

"I'm not..." I paused again. What was I? "I'm just your toy," I said aloud.

"You…" Now the Joker was the one who had trouble finishing his sentence.

"What do you want, Joker?" I asked him, desperately needing an answer. I wanted to know what was going on. "That's what you call yourself. Is that what this is? This kindness, is it just a joke? I know that you've always wanted to drive me over the edge, and right now you're pretty damned close to succeeding." As I stared into his ink-black eyes, something changed in them and he said something in his lowest rough tone.

"What?" I asked him nervously.

"You're driving me over the edge, Sky." And with that, he strode over to me in three steps and grabbed me around my waist. I had no time to say anything before his lips pressed hungrily against mine. His tongue traced my bottom lip and made me shiver with a longing for him that I had kept hidden, and my hands found their way up his arms and around his neck. I intertwined my fingers into his blond hair and found that it was soft to the touch and I pulled it gently. In response, the Joker pulled me even closer to him and every inch of me was pressed against him.

My brain was telling me to stop. That it was wrong, that it was twisted, not normal, too _strange_. But I chose to ignore it. My brain was no longer in control of my body. It was in charge, and I didn't even care. I was tired of feeling lonely. I was tired of hoping for normalcy.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, revealing a smooth, muscular body. I realized that I was expecting it to be scarred like his face, but it perfectly normal, albeit rather better than normal. He soon began to pull at the clothes I had changed into before cleaning my room, and I let him. I _wanted_ him to. I wanted him, and I once again despised myself, and him, for it. The mixture of love and hate that I felt for the both of us poured out of my like poison and elixir combined and it electrified me, sending adrenaline pumping through my veins. My heart pounded against his and again I was agonizingly aware of the connection I felt to him. I wondered vaguely if he felt the same connection, or if I was still just a toy to him – his doll.

I heard a sound from him as he exhaled against my mouth, and it sounded distinctly like my name. I wished I knew his. Everything that was happening was like a dream, I wasn't entirely aware of the things occurring. I felt like I had been slipped a drug, and I wondered if he somehow had slipped me something – but I realized that there was no way he could have. Everything that was happening was of my own choice, and I was choosing to go through it without a fight, I was choosing to _like_ it.

And then I froze. I _liked_ it? How? How could I continue to kiss this sadistic lunatic, take off his clothes, let him take of my clothes? I felt like I had been hit hard, like common sense had taken a brick to my forehead. As soon as I had stopped, so did the Joker. He looked at me, the emotions I was feeling displayed on his face. Was it an act? Another attempt to drive me even further from my sanity? If so, it was working. I had begun to feel further and further from my mind every second.

_But that's what love does to you..._ a voice in my head told me. I wanted to beat the voice to death.

"Wh –" the Joker began to say and then stopped. He was frozen like me, though his skin was hot pressed against mine. Every inch of my body craved him but my mind was pushing my emotions away, attempting with all of its might to win back its sanity and keep me away from him. As far away as possible, and it was winning. The Joker kept looking at me, the confusion growing more intense on his face until I thought he looked angry.

"Are you going to hit me?" I whispered, suddenly worried that it was an issue. And then he did look angry, and I realized that the expression that the confusion had turned into was not anger, but hurt. He got up abrubtly.

"Dammit Sky, is that what you want? I thought –" he broke off as stood up, glaring frighteningly murderously at the wall. He was still shirtless, everyone of his muscles tensed with rage. He turned to look at me, he towered above me and his voice softened. "Look what I've turned you into." I wondered what he meant by that, and horribly the thought occurred to me that he thought that I liked to be hit. That it had turned into a disgusting game for me. I was about to deny it, tell him that I wasn't like that, when he spoke again. "I've made you afraid."

He picked up his shirt and then, like he had done so many times before, he left.

***

I heard him go to his room and then quickly leave and go down the stairs. I crept out of my room as I saw him go outside and talk to someone outside.

"The two of you stay here. Make sure she doesn't leave. If you touch her, I will kill you. Very slowly, and very, very painfully." And with that I heard his footsteps fade away as he left. I was a bit worried about being left alone with two of his crazy minions, so I went back into my room and shut the door. Though I really knew that after being threatened they would not come near me.

I sat on my bed and tried to think. It was a bit useless. My mind was everywhere, though mostly on the Joker. On his body, his hands, his face, his mouth. His eyes. I don't know why he was so confusing to me. To any normal person, this issue would have been easy to solve: he is evil, therefore, you hate him. Only, I felt that I could see beneath his persona of evil. There was something underneath that I felt was longing to be discovered, to be loved. And I did love him. I was terrified of him, but I couldn't help but love him. He was wounded and maimed, and not just on the outside. _Like me_.

I tried to weigh pros against cons.

Okay, cons: evil sadistic, mass murderer, lack of remorse, unpredictable, violent, kidnapper, wanted criminal.

Pros: I felt a connection to him. Good body? Hooray for being shallow. Umm… okay, that was all I could think of at the moment, which was probably a bad sign. I remembered all the girls in high school who wanted to date a bad boy and made fun of me because the boys never liked me. _Well, look how far I've come,_ I thought cynically, smirking to myself.

I decided, for once, to exit my room. The minions were by the front exit, and glanced up as I opened my door but otherwise ignored me and chatted quietly amongst themselves.

I padded quietly down the hallway and entered the Joker's empty room. I vaguely wondered where he had disappeared to. With a sinking heart I realized that it was probably to destroy some poor person's life. A stabbing feeling of hatred hit me – not for him, it was his nature, he was beyond repair – but for me. I was supposed to have self-control, a conscience, a heart. And my traitorous, mindless, desperate heart yearned for him. I was as much of a monster as he as, and I finally admitted that I was like him, simply because I loved him. He loved chaos and he was chaos, and therefore I loved chaos too.

It was strange to have had trust issues my entire life, and then getting hit with the realization that I loved the Joker after a mere few days. The Joker of all people. It was disgusting and pathetic, but I accepted it.

I ambled over to the far side of his bed and found a book lying there – the book I had been reading to him the other night when he fell asleep in my bed. One of the most romantic books I owned, and one of my favourites. I had even gone so far as to underline my favourite parts – something which I never did in any other book. But this one was special. All of my underlining was in pencil in case I ever wanted to erase it, but as I flipped through the pages a new colour caught my eye – purple.

"_Eliza has the sky in her eyes and I've always wanted to touch the goddamn sky._"  
He had underlined it as I had, and placed brackets around the word "sky."

I numbly put the book down and I heard a voice behind me that made me jump.

"It's a good book," said the voice. I turned around and the Joker was leaning against the doorframe.


	15. Giving In

**Note: Bonjour, everyone! As promised, here is another chapter (though it's rather short).  
It's something that I thought I should include because it might make some people happy… haha. And one of my close friends told me I had to write it so of course I didn't want to disappoint her. :P  
As always, I hope you enjoy it! :) And you may have noticed… I changed the story's rating to "M".**

Disclaimer: Joker = not mine, as he belongs to DC Comics.  
Sky Mortimer = mine. Please don't steal her.  
  
_Chapter Fifteen. Giving In.  
_  
The Joker regarded me with his dark eyes, and I wondered how he had managed to get into the building and up the stairs without me even hearing him. I guess I was just distracted by the fact that he had read my book and underlined a beautiful line with my name in it – in his own favourite colour of ink.

"It's my favourite. Along with _Jane Eyre_," I replied.

"Well, this is better. I could never finish _Jane Eyre_."

"You read _Jane Eyre_?" I didn't bother trying to hide my disbelief.

"_Tried_ to read it. It was boring," he said in a bored voice, as if to emphasize his statement.

"It was beautiful," I protested. I had to defend it; it was the first book my mother gave me. I inevitably and instantly loved it.

"Like you," he smiled, and I frowned. It was the same words as always, but again, his voice was different when he spoke.

"Joker," I began but then paused. I was going to ask if he hated me, but I figured that it would ruin the calm moment.

"Yes?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know," I said, sounding rather defeated. He strode quickly over to me and sat down beside me on the bed.

"You are _strange_, Sky," he said.

"You're one to talk," I smirked at him, and he grinned in return.

"But not in the same way. I'm easy to figure out, but you… _you_... have different and unpredictable aspects to your personality. You are weak and afraid, yes –" I bristled and began to retort, but he continued as if he didn't notice. "– but you have bursts of strength where I know you aren't afraid anymore. I think these times are interesting, but I know that these are the times when you have given up on life, where you don't care if you die. That's why I like it when you're afraid, because I know that you want to live."

I honestly did not know how to reply. He'd looked more in depth to my personality than anyone ever had.

"I think you're more complicated than you give yourself credit for," I spoke after some time. "Much more complicated than me, because I can't figure you out."

"Maybe I'm just a better reader than you," he smiled. In return I joked,

"Well I don't think so, I had read hundreds of books."

"What is your _least_ favourite book?" the Joker asked. I had to think for a moment, I had read quite a few terrible books, but one stood out in particular.

"I don't remember the name of it – but I remember my reason for hating it. It wasn't badly written, and it had excellent reviews. But it was about a woman's life, and throughout her life, she got married – twice – had children, and lived till she was very old. But she never found love, and no one ever truly loved her. I was afraid it was my future."

"You will find love, Sky. I promise," said the Joker. I looked at him, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the floor, and I knew that he'd never had the intention to kill me.

Quickly, and without hesitation I leaned over to kiss his cheek, but he turned at the last second and his lips met with mine. He leaned forward and deepened the kiss, and I put a hand on the bed to balance myself.

A few seconds later my action was deemed futile as he gently pushed me down onto the bed, still kissing me. I let him push me onto his soft mattress as he shifted his body onto me and his kisses became rougher and more urgent. I returned his kisses with just as much fervor as I began to unbutton his vest, and after that his shirt. He returned the favour promptly – eagerly removing my clothes as I removed his.

And then, I realized with a sudden jolt, we were in nothing but our underclothes and I was aware of a prominent hardness pressing on the inside of my thigh. He stopped kissing me as soon as I cane to this realization.

I wasn't scared. That was what shocked me most. My fear was gone, and all that was left was _want_. I started to say something, and then I bit my lip instead. I suppose this looked sexy to the Joker as he let out a low grows and lowered his face to my neck where he roughly kissed and bit me.

I arched my back up to meet him and every place where my skin touched his burned with desire as he lowered himself further down. He reached energetically behind my back and unclipped my bra, tore it off, and threw it room, proceeding to trail his tongue lightly and delicately around my nipples while his hands roamed everywhere else. They glided down my torso, and then around my back and down further where he firmly grasped my backside to press me even harder against him.

And without thinking, I tugged eagerly at the elastic waistband of his boxers and I felt him grin against my mouth before he slipped his tongue in to quickly glide against mine.

After this, everything moved very quickly. Even quicker than it already had. I did not listen to my screaming brain, but only went with the motions, feeling like everything that was happening was what I had already wanted to do but didn't believe it until then. Joker's mouth, his tongue, his hands, trailing down, further and further…

The removal of what little clothing that was left.

His mouth back on mine as I gasped.

As he entered me, moved inside of me.

It was intoxicating, feeling him on me, in me. Hot skin pressed against mine. I feverishly kissed him back, unable to hold anything back, letting my mind go and giving into him entirely.


End file.
